


A Simpler Time

by legallyblained



Category: Glee
Genre: 50s, F/F, M/M, Pleasantville AU, Time Travel, guess who's officially back on their bullshit thanks to lockdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legallyblained/pseuds/legallyblained
Summary: Best sort-of friends Blaine and Santana aren't exactly living their best lives in 2020. When a storm throws them the biggest imaginable curve ball, can they make it back home? And can they make a change before they do?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 60
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

‘You don’t have to go. We could go get breakfast in the morning or something; I don’t have to be at work til 10.’ 

Blaine pulls his jeans on. ‘No thanks. I have to go.’

The guy (Blaine thinks it’s John, or maybe James – either way, he isn’t certain enough to say it) laughs. ‘It’s 2am. You got a meeting?’

‘Early start tomorrow. I don’t sleep well in other people’s houses.’ The guy gets up to let him out. 

‘No, no. I know where the door is.’ Blaine weaves away when he leans in for a kiss. ‘I don’t… I just wanna go.’

‘Jesus. Fine. Sorry for trying to be nice.’

Blaine sighs. ‘You’re a delight. I’m sure your parents are proud. I just don’t like hanging around.’

As Blaine goes down the hall he hears, ‘I guess I shouldn’t call you?’

Blaine snorts. ‘Probably not worth it.’

Sometimes he thinks the walk home is his favourite part of this. At least it’s quiet. Cool, fresh air on his skin and however long it takes to walk home – hopefully long enough that his legs ache. He’s lost the ability to be surprised by the guys any more. Some would be desperate to talk and spoon and make him breakfast, but sometimes they were a little rougher than he was expecting. He would just act like he was into it, make the right sounds until it was over. He heard himself talking and acting differently around them, using his most suggestive tone and being all cocky like he was some worldly businessman in town for a conference with a couple of hours to spare, not a high-schooler still living at home and keeping everything a secret. 

He loves this. He’s free to do whatever he wants. Freedom is great.

He knows the right way to twist the door handle so it doesn’t squeak, the right floorboards to avoid so he can pad silently up to his room. He glances at the forced family photos on the wall, him and his parents smiling, perfectly happy. That felt real at the time. Part of him wishes he could get that feeling back, but he knows he can’t. This way he gets to be himself. Exactly how he wants. His own terms, not answering to anybody.

He decides to wait until later to shower. He’s got 4 hours to sleep first – or at least, 4 hours to lie quietly in bed, imagining scenarios telling his parents the truth. He has a feeling this version of him won’t really fit into their next portrait. He tries to close his eyes and force himself to sleep, a famously effective insomnia cure. Soon enough, he gives up and picks up his phone, scrolling through Grindr. At least he can plan for tomorrow.

A message comes through from Santana. It’s the Instagram story of one of the Cheerios, a bunch of them assembled in formation. ‘Not long now – from human pyramid to pyramid scheme. Can’t wait to see them tricking each other into spending money on bullshit.’ 

He laughs. ‘You must miss it soooo much. All the smiling and hairspray and yelling about how much you love your school. Thank god you’ve got me.’

‘Totally. Where else can I get sordid sex stories? How was tonight?’

He thinks for a moment before responding. Honestly, it was… nothing. A guy whose face he can already barely remember, a silent walk home, and his skin still crawling.

‘A solid 6/10.’

‘High praise, coming from you. Can’t wait for the wedding. More details tomorrow.’

Back to the yellow and black, the filtered profiles and not-so-subtly racist ‘preferences’. He fires off a ‘hey’ to a handful of guys, flicks through socials, Grindr for another half an hour, then gives up and settles for silently staring into the darkness until his alarm goes off. He manages 3 hours of broken sleep.

*

‘Morning, Luna. Your cereal’s on the table. We’re leaving in half an hour, so you need to get moving.’

Luna thanks her big sister and scoops a wobbly spoonful of corn flakes into her mouth. ‘Do you have to go to work tonight?’

Santana stops tidying up the kitchen for a minute to sit at the table with her.

‘Yeah. Sorry, baby.’

‘I wish you could just stay home with me. Daddy doesn’t read with me like you do.’

Holding her tongue when it comes to her father is normal for Santana. When their mom first left, he worked his ass off to keep everything together, and Santana did all she could to help, including getting the job at the café to contribute some more money. But things gradually started to slip, and now…

‘Hey, girls.’ He’s in his dressing gown. That probably isn’t going to change any time today. He gives Luna a kiss on the head and pours himself a coffee. After that, he pretty much sits with a blank expression, giving Luna a couple of nods when she talks to him, while the drink in his hand goes cold. Luna gives the occasional concerned glance while she tells them all about what she’s looking forward to at school. 

‘And we’re learning all about electricity and circuits, and Mrs Wilson said I can try and use the buzzer, but I don’t think she’ll let the boys use it because they’re loud and stupid but I’m not loud and stupid, I’m clever and sensible so I know how to behave. And Mikey said yesterday that he wants to marry me, but I told him I don’t want to because I’m going to be a lesbian just like you.’  
Santana smiles, taking the empty cereal bowl away.

‘Good for you. Boys are stinky anyway. Now why don’t you go brush your teeth and we’ll walk to school, okay?’

‘Okay!’

She scrambles off to the bathroom and Santana puts her lunch in her backpack, checks she’s got everything she needs, and finally looks at her father.

‘You getting dressed today?’

He sighs. ‘Honey, I can’t have this fight with you again.’ It hasn’t been a fight for a long time. It’s been her telling him to be better and him failing. ‘I’m not having a good week.’

‘Her friend’s mom is dropping her off later. I’m working tonight, so you have to fix her dinner. And don’t just order pizza, it’s a waste of money. There’s pasta and sauce, and there’s stuff for a salad in the fridge. She needs something healthy. Got that?’

He nods. ‘Got it. Look, Santana, I’m sorry-’

She’s not even looking at him any more. ‘Don’t be sorry. Be better.’

Luna runs up to her, babbling that her teeth are clean and she can check her toothbrush and everything. 

‘It’s okay, I believe you. Come on, sweet pea, let’s get you to school.’

As usual, they meet up with Blaine on the way, and Luna insists on walking in the middle and holding hands with both of them. 

‘How are you today, Blaine?’ They both smile – Luna really is a testament to Santana. She’s miraculously polite, considering her sister is… well, different. ‘Did you do anything fun yesterday?’

‘Yes, Blaine! What you did yesterday, was it fun?’

He plastered on a fake smile. ‘Sure, it was fun. I went to my friend’s house.’

‘Which friend?’

‘Uh…’ Santana widened her eyes at him. ‘His name is… John.’ He mutters ‘I think’ under his breath. Hook-ups are much more fun when he’s recounting them to Santana. He can play the part of this young, promiscuous gay guy, sharing his hilarious stories with his best friend – his only friend, really – who always gasps in the right places and makes it seem exciting and funny, rather than pathetic. If she’s judging him, she at least has the courtesy not to tell him in front of Luna. Obviously, she’ll rip into him for this later, but that’s just how they are with each other.

They drop Luna off at school and wave her off with big grins, and Santana mumbles that she wants more details.

‘He was… big. But unimaginative. It was hilarious – he asked if I wanted to stay for breakfast.’

‘Wow. Psycho.’

They keep walking to their school. Santana always wonders if newer teachers at Luna’s school think she and Blaine are her parents. They drop her off more than their dad does these days.

‘You know I don’t do that. I’m not trying to get married and have a bunch of gaybies. I just want to have fun.’

Too familiar with this speech, she rolls her eyes.

‘Sure. Oh shit, we’ve got social studies first. I do not have the energy for Mrs Hawkins today. We get it, society is terrible for everyone.’

Blaine will never get used to how quickly Santana slips into school mode – the polar opposite of the big sister walking Luna to school. She’s not wrong about social studies. Mrs Hawkins is really outdoing herself today. 

‘I know it’s easy to think everything’s fine now because same-sex marriage is legal here, but there’s still such a long way to go. LGB youth are five times more likely to have attempted suicide than their straight peers. The statistics on anti-LGBT+ violence is shocking – in a lot of places it’s actually getting worse, and there are some countries where it’s not just illegal to be gay, but punishable by death. Death by stoning. Can you imagine that? Just because of who a person is attracted to!’

Blaine could swear she looks right at him. Surely not. How would she even know? Is she going to throw rocks at him to show him how good he’s got it here? He avoids her gaze.

One of the guys calls out ‘We know all this. Be nice to gays. We get it.’ 

Santana cuts in. ‘And who are you to talk about it? You don’t have the first clue what it’s like for queer youth.’

Hawkins takes a deep breath and stares Santana down – something most people have never achieved.

‘Actually, Santana, I do. I’m bisexual.’

It’s the quietest the class has been since… well, since the start of the school year.

Puck frowns. ‘I thought you had a husband?’

‘I do. Because I’m capable of being attracted to people of any gender, which is what bisexuality is, and I happen to be in love with a man. But it doesn’t make me any less bi. And that brings me onto what I really wanted to talk to you about: I’m starting a chapter of PFLAG at this school, if any of you are interested in joining. There’s already a handful of members lower down the school, and it would be so powerful if they had some older role models to look up to.’

Definitely a deliberate glance at Blaine and Santana. Undeniable. She also smiles at another boy in the class – one of the few in the class who consistently takes notes and makes thoughtful contributions. He used to be a Cheerio, but Santana has blocked those memories out so deliberately that she can’t remember his name.

Santana scrawls a note to Blaine: ‘can’t believe this school is giving gay lessons now. this really is the future.’ He snorted and scribbled back: ‘can she be more obvious when she looks at us - like we would want to sit in a classroom singing showtunes about self-acceptance with a bunch of freshmen.’ 

Quinn raises her hand.

‘Look, Mrs Hawkins, I’m glad you’re comfortable with who you are, but is it really necessary to bring it up in class? That’s your business.’

‘You all knew I had a husband, and nobody was uncomfortable with it. Look, Quinn, when I was your age, I didn’t know any queer people. I saw the occasional gay guy die of AIDs on TV. I thought I was a freak and that I was going to have a miserable life. If I’d had adults in my life who were confidently queer, I know it would’ve made my life easier. And trying to help students is what teaching is all about.’

Quinn is put firmly into her place. The class is quiet again.

‘Anyway, I want you all to fill out your surveys on homophobia in school – can you think of any instances of bullying or discriminatory language? How often do you hear it? And if any of you want to join our PFLAG group, just come and see me and I’ll let you know when it is. That way I can make sure it stays a safe space for those who need it.’

Chatter quickly starts up again as the students fill in their papers. Blaine and Santana barely read the questions.

‘God, she’s so desperate to be interesting. Who cares if you made out with your roommate in college? It doesn’t make you part of a community and it definitely doesn’t make you some kind of hero to a bunch of kids who’ve probably all decided they’re genderqueer pansexuals because they’ve watched too much Queer Eye.’

‘Wow, Tana.’

‘What? She’s not facing an ounce of prejudice because whoever she’s had a crush on, she still gets to hold hands with her husband in public and nobody will care. But I’m sure she still gets to put on her resumé that she’s an inspiration to all the vulnerable baby gays.’

He’s almost scared to reply. ‘Okay. I mean, people can be bi. And she’s not the worst teacher here by a long way.’

‘Whatever. Look,’ she holds up her sheet, ‘everything here is perfect! Nobody’s ever sent me any dick pics to straighten me out, nobody’s ever called me a dyke, and I feel totally adored by my classmates. Can this class just fucking end already?’

Blaine definitely doesn’t want to risk defending the teacher any further. He keeps it to himself that he thinks it’s actually kind of cool. 

On their way out, the conscientious boy from the class stops them. He’s tall, eyes that are almost too blue, brown hair adding a few inches onto his height. Neither of them can remember his name.

‘Hi!’

They stare at him.

‘Hello? Who are you and why are you standing in our way?’

Blaine knows that’s unnecessary, but he’s not brave enough to tell Santana to rein it in.

‘Oh, well, I’m Kurt, from all of your classes since middle school, and I- I saw you talking and just wanted to say that PFLAG sessions are actually pretty nice. You shouldn’t dismiss it so quickly. We talk about gender and attraction and share experiences, and I’ve talked to kids in there I wouldn’t meet any other way. It’s also super helpful for anyone who’s struggling to come out.’

Blaine is on the verge of giving a genuine answer when Santana beats him to the punch. Almost literal.

‘Being gay is the least of my problems. I’ve got better shit to do than sit in a circle and tell a club of dorks how I told my dad I’m a lesbian and, as usual, he did absolutely nothing. My life is none of your business, so stay away from me.’

Kurt looks like she just slapped him. Santana shoves past him and starts walking towards her next class. Blaine risks hanging back for a minute.

‘I’m, uh – sorry about her. It’s not personal.’

Some of the hurt eases from the boy’s face.

‘I know. Hey, who hasn’t lashed out at the wrong person before? Really though, think about joining. 

It’s not that dorky – okay, it is, but it’s still nice.’

Blaine’s heart is thudding furiously and he wants to thank Kurt, say he’ll think about it, but he’s being so nice and he looks so pretty and Blaine’s stupid app persona takes over.

‘I can think of some slightly more fun experiences we could share.’

He looks Kurt up and down. Kurt raises an eyebrow.

‘Excuse me?’

It’s too late; he’s committed to it now.

‘Well, how about we start our own club? There’s some trees at the back of the football fields where I’m sure we’ll feel totally liberated or whatever. I’ll even let you bring a rainbow flag to kneel on.’

Jesus. He wouldn’t say that on Grindr. He wouldn’t say that ever. That was a new level of gross, especially for someone at school who just trying to be kind to him. He’s about to apologise and take it back, when one of the hockey team starts talking too loud right next to them.

‘Kind of creepy telling a bunch of teenagers about her sex life. Probably wants to fuck one of the girls. Or maybe she gets off on getting kids to hook up with each other. I bet it’s just the second best pedo class after glee club and she can’t sing for shit.’

Blaine’s fist clenches. He wishes he were the kind of person who could stand up and argue with them, because he knows they’re full of shit, and every word they say makes a new spike of anger flare up in his chest, but he just… can’t. He doesn’t want to get involved. He just wants to go to class. Mostly. He looks up to see Kurt watching him, almost challenging him to do the right thing, but just seems disappointed.

‘Wow, what a monster, being kind to children who want to understand themselves better. If only she ran a really cool straight club, like a bunch of guys hitting each other with sticks. Go back to your cave, moron.’

The guy grunts and slopes off with his friends. Kurt turns back to Blaine.

‘And as for you? What you do on your own time is your business, but I will not be spoken to like that. We’re at school, you maniac.’

Kurt leaves and Blaine feels an inch tall as he drags himself to Science.

‘So,’ Mr Roberts drones, ‘you will present these next week. I want you to go into detail and be prepared to answer questions on your different kinds of cells. You need to look at its function, its location in the organism, and its composition.’

Santana’s group is quiet. It doesn’t matter who she works with – most people are quiet when faced with Santana Lopez. She knows why. And she likes it that way.

‘Maybe,’ Rachel is first to take the plunge today, ‘maybe we could use a flipchart or something, rather than just PowerPoint.’

Tina nods. ‘Yeah, okay. Does anyone mind which one we do?’

‘Who cares?’ Santana grumbles. ‘Just pick one so we can get it done.’

Brittany is oblivious to Santana’s tone. And she’s one of the few people in the school who is rarely on the receiving end of it. ‘I vote sperm. And why do we need words to explain what they do? They’re all about movement, right? Why don’t we take the whole class to the pool and swim towards a giant beach ball to show how they swim up to the egg?’ 

Santana is just staring at her, trying to think of a tactful way to shoot the idea down, a courtesy she doesn’t extend to many people. It’s difficult to think at all though, when Brittany is just smiling and doing a wiggling, swimming movement on her stool to demonstrate her idea.

The others look expectantly at Santana, clearly bracing themselves for an explosion. Can she suddenly be kind, just because it’s Brittany? Looking at her makes Santana feel dizzy and stupid and weak and can’t stand it, and she especially can’t let the others see it. They might think it’s pathetic, or worse, cute.

‘That’s idiotic. I am not about to squeeze my hair into a fucking white swimming cap to do a synchronized fertilisation routine with you. We do the presentation, we say the facts, we pass, and we sit down again.’

Brittany looks crestfallen, and Tina pats her arm. ‘It’s okay, Britt. I think she just means we don’t have time to plan that kind of routine. Good idea, Santana.’

Santana can’t bring herself to look up from her notes. She never explained to Brittany why she had to quit Cheerios – there was too much to do at home, and in all honesty she just couldn’t handle slapping that smile on all the time. She still hasn’t admitted to herself how much she misses the happiness pouring out of Brittany, and getting to be close to her every day.

When she walks to her and Blaine’s usual spot under the bleachers for lunch, a guy she’s never spoken to steps in front of her.

‘Hi. I know you don’t know me, but my name’s Jack and I think you’re beautiful. I was wondering if I could maybe get you a coffee some time. Sorry, I know this is really forward, but-’

‘But what?’ It’s not like she ever reacts positively to being hit on by guys. But the timing of this one, when she’s weighed down by the guilt of being so cruel to Brittany, and just wants a cigarette and a break with her one friend, is too much. She doesn’t stop to think if this boy deserves the lashing he gets. ‘But you think you’re gonna turn me straight with your magical dick?’

‘You’re- oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise-’

‘Oh sure, you just thought “hey, she’s got somewhere to go, I’ll see if I can get in her way! Give her more attention she has no interest in!” Go bother somebody else; I’m sure there’s some cute little sophomore just desperate for attention from a skinny, greasy little bitch like you.’

‘I, uh- I’m sorry. I was just asking. I didn’t know. Sorry.’ He scampers away, tail between his legs.

Blaine, scrolling through his phone, holds out his lighter as soon as he sees her. She lights up while he asks ‘Wanna talk about it?’

‘Why do guys think they can just ambush me with some shitty come-on?’

He snorts. ‘Sounds awful.’

‘You know what? Try and say that again when you’ve had gross old men yelling at you from trucks since you were nine.’

Blaine glances over to the shaking boy still standing where she obliterated him a hundred yards away.

‘Not bad. I could take him off your hands for you if you want.’

She sighs. ‘Whatever. You’d never do anything with a boy at this school. That’d mean you’d have to see him again, and that would mean someone other than me might find out you’re a fag.’

‘Apparently someone already does. That Kurt guy kept talking to me about joining that club after you left. Ridiculous.’

‘Totally. Who needs queer liberation when you’ve got Grindr? You’re a modern-day Harvey Milk. Anyone lined up for tonight?’

‘Scruff today, actually. And I’ve got some possibilities. Why did he keep talking to me but just let you storm off? I don’t want to join that stupid club either.’

‘You didn’t leave, so he kept talking, dumbass. Or maybe I’m just not as obviously gay as you.’

He wishes that didn’t give him a heavy feeling in his stomach. ‘Obvious’ is his worst nightmare. ‘Sure, bitch. They’re just scared of the rage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be nice to a single person at this school.’

‘I’m nice to you.’

‘You literally just called me a fag.’

‘And you called me a bitch.’

He takes a drag.

‘Guess we’re perfect for each other.’

They lean against the fence in silence.

*

They still walk home together as usual. Their thing may not be very nice, but it’s consistent. They see the worst of each other, but at least they know what’s behind it. And they get exclusive glimpses into each other’s best moments too.

An SUV honks at them as they walk. ‘Told you,’ Santana says, her voice both vindicated and exhausted.

Blaine offers an apologetic smile. ‘Maybe that was for me. My butt looks great today.’ 

She chuckles and elbows him. His phone buzzes just as they arrive at her house and she groans.

‘I take it I’ll see you tonight?’

‘Looks like it. I’ll have my usual, please.’

Santana rushes inside, dumping her bag in the hallway. ‘Lulu?’

Luna is in the living room with a sandwich, watching cartoons.

‘Hi, Tana,’, she calls out in a daze, completely transfixed by the bright colours on the screen. Santana strokes her hair. 

‘Good day, baby?’

‘Uh-huh. I got a gold star for my drawing.’

Santana smiles. ‘I bet you did, tiny Picasso.’ 

‘And Luke was being mean to Annabelle, so I told him to leave her alone, and now she’s my best friend.’ Her face lights up. ‘Oh, oh! Can I tell you a joke?’ 

She checks her watch and figures she can be a bit late. She sits with Luna, absent-mindedly untangling her hair. ‘I want to hear your jokes more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life.’

‘Okay, okay. Two muffins are in the oven, cooking. One muffin says “phew, it’s hot in here” and the other one says “wow, a talking muffin!” Annabelle told it to me and I think it’s the funniest joke in the whole world and I’m glad she’s my best friend.’ 

Santana burst out laughing and pulled her close for a moment.

‘That’s amazing. Where’s Dad?’

Luna shrugs. ‘I think he might have gone for a nap. He said he was tired after he got me food.’  
She glances at the food in question. Peanut butter sandwich. Exhausting work. She fetches an apple and tells Luna to eat it when she’s done, knowing she’ll eat it immediately so she can get back to the sandwich, then goes down the hall to find her father.

‘Jesus.’ She gives him a shove, bringing him into vague consciousness. ‘One thing. I told you do one thing. Vegetables. I’ve got to change then I’m going to work. Maybe if it doesn’t kill you, you could spend some time with your daughter tonight.’ She thinks she can hear a muffled ‘sorry’ on her way out.

*

‘More potatoes, honey?’

‘No thanks, Mom.’

‘You’re awfully quiet, son,’ his father commented. ‘Problems at school?’

He shrugs. ‘No. All fine. How was work?’ 

He notices his parents share a quick look. 

‘Oh, you know, this time of year is always busy. Cold weather breaks pipes; my guys fix them. Good system.’ Another glance between them. ‘Listen, Blaine, we’re – we’re a little worried about you.’

Blaine doesn’t look up. His mother has a try.

‘You’re not in trouble, darling, it’s just that- you always seem so tired. We’ve seen that your grades are slipping.’ She strokes his hair back. ‘I mean, you know we don’t mind about that but it’s just not like you. Is something bothering you?’

‘We just – we used to spend so much more time together, and now you just go to your room. I know you’re a teenager and we’re probably not very cool, but… we miss you.’

He’s so close. Painfully close to blurting it all out. He knows they love him. He knows he’s lucky compared to other people his age, because they would probably try so hard. But the rest of the family, and their friends, if they knew about him, he really doesn’t know what would happen. They’ve built this perfect little bubble around him, and suddenly he feels like he’s been betraying them for months, going behind their back and hiding so much from them. He knows if he tries to make any kind of noise now, if he even looks up at them, he’ll start crying and he might never stop. He’s just a tiny little boy, desperate for his parents to hold him and tell him it’s okay, but he just can’t let them. He has to keep everything he’s done far away from them, away from this house. None of it fits in with their idea of a perfect family, a perfect life. In all honesty, he’s not sure it fits in with what he wants, either.

Knowing his parents would try isn’t enough. The possibility that they would even have to ‘try’ makes him feel sick.

He realises he’s been staring at his plate for a couple of minutes while his parents try to comfort him. Suddenly, he stands up, almost knocking his chair over. He clears his throat, just enough to blurt out something about homework and he’s sorry and gets upstairs as quickly as possible. Angrily wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, he immediately gets his phone out, and opens up the profile of the guy who messaged him earlier. He’s an older guy, beard, not bad looking. It’ll do. Anything to stop his head spinning.

He waits half an hour before climbing out of his window, onto the garage and down to the ground. He doesn’t care about the rain – he needs to be anywhere but here.

Blaine’s at his usual table by the time the guy arrives. Santana brings him a black coffee, and almost asks him what’s wrong, but thinks better of it. He looks ready to give out her level of rage and she’s not in the mood. A big guy appears – burlier than his photograph, which isn’t a problem, but. God. Pale pink sweater, big cheesy grin, a pretty loud ‘Hi!’ across the room. He’s a lot. The campness is a turn-off. ‘Goodness, I hope you haven’t been waiting long!’

Blaine shakes his head.

‘Not long. You’re fine.’

Geoffrey (yes, really, Geoffrey) gets a good look at him and the huge smile fades. 

‘Oh, my. You’re young. You’re really young. No.’

Blaine bristles. ‘It’s fine, I don’t care.’

‘That’s very cool of you, but I do care. About dumb little things, like not being a creepy old man and not going to prison. Sorry, honey.’ He’s about to leave but Blaine stops him.

‘Wait. You- you don’t even know me. Don’t treat me like I’m just some stupid kid.’

He pauses and considers Blaine for a moment. 

‘You want another coffee?’

So they sit for a while. Blaine’s jittery and frustrated - his clothes are wet, his hair is exploding, this isn’t what he came here for, and it isn’t helping get his mind off anything. It’s also pretty late to be on his third coffee in half an hour. Santana finds the whole thing bizarre and too funny for Blaine’s liking.

‘Why are you so angry, Blaine?’

‘I’m fine. Why are you so…’ He gestures vaguely at the man in front of him. ‘This?’

Geoffrey laughs. ‘Count yourself lucky I decided against the feather boa. What, did you expect a straight guy to walk in here? Secret’s out, sweetie, I’m as gay as the day is long. That’s why we’re here. I’ve tried toning this down but it didn’t take. And I’m too old to change my ways now. So, back to my original question: why are you so angry?’

‘I’m not angry.’

‘Oh, sure. Because skulking around for hook-ups on a school night is what completely happy people do.’

‘You’re here too, aren’t you? Lots of guys do this, and it doesn’t make them bad gays.’

His voice takes on a Kim Cattrall drawl. ‘Well, I can be a very bad gay when the mood takes me.’ He chuckles. ‘Sorry. I’m a trashy queen with bad taste in TV. Look, I love a night of fun as much as the next guy. There’s nothing wrong with this, if you enjoy it, but you don’t exactly look thrilled to be here.’ Blaine tries to soften his scowl. ‘Does anybody outside of the dating app world know you’re gay?’

Blaine could explode. How dare this random stranger be CORRECT.

‘My friend does. She – she’s gay too.’

‘That waitress who keeps refilling your coffee and giggling at you? Well, that’s a start. Your parents?’

Blaine stares at his coffee. ‘I didn’t come here for a therapy session.’

‘I know. But as previously stated, I don’t want to go to jail, so you’re not getting what you came here for, so here we are. Should I take that as a no?’

Blaine almost walks out right then, but something compels him to stay. ‘They- they wouldn’t get it.’

‘How do you know? Do they say homophobic stuff around you?’

Blaine shakes his head.

‘I don’t know. I just.’ He picks at a nail. ‘I don’t think they’d like this version of me very much.’

No pithy comebacks this time. Geoffrey puts a friendly hand over Blaine’s.

‘You know, kid, you’re part of something so much bigger than just you. Even if your parents don’t get it, there are people who will. We’ve been putting work in for kids like you and your friend for decades so you could be safe and happy and free. Do you feel any of those when you do this, Blaine?’ He ducks down to catch Blaine’s eye. ‘You say your parents wouldn’t like this version of you. But I don’t think you like him either.’ 

For the second time that evening, Blaine is on the verge of tears. He yanks his hand away.

‘Well, thank god there are ancient fags like you around to give us all the guidance we need.’

Mean is so much safer than sad.

Geoffrey’s expression cools.

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Ancient?’

Geoffrey’s voice is eerily calm – like a parent saying they’re not angry, just disappointed. ‘I will not have slurs used against me.’

Blaine laughs and looks out of the window at the storm. ‘But I’m one too. I thought that was allowed.’

‘Not when you say it like they do. Not with hate in your voice.’ He sighs. ‘You know what, I don’t know why I’m still here.’ He stands up. Santana watches carefully, ready to intervene. Blaine’s annoying sometimes, but he’s her only friend. Geoffrey gives it one last try. ‘You don’t have to feel like this.’

It would be easy enough for Blaine to say one tiny, honest ‘thank you’.

‘Well, gee, thanks, mister! I’m healed!’

Geoffrey puts his coat on and nods out towards the rain. ‘Try not to get stuck out in that. Your world seems cold enough already.’

And he’s gone. Thunder growls with the slam of the door. The cafe is empty apart from Blaine and Santana, and the rain is only getting worse.

‘What was that? I don’t think I’ve ever known you not to seal the deal. Did the fuzz put him off?’ She ruffles his hair but can tell he’s shaken up and puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Seriously, though. That seemed intense. Are you okay?’

‘God, can people stop trying to analyse me for one minute? I wanted to fuck, and he just treated me like precious little doll, now you’ve turned all cute and cuddly because I’m apparently too pathetic for even you to be mean to, and my parents-’

The yelling stops. She doesn’t push him. When he speaks again, it’s quieter, calmer, almost guilty.

‘They were… nice. Just so, so nice and I still didn’t say it.’

He looks at his feet, leaning against the booth he’d been sitting at. Santana doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t say that at least his parents have noticed that he’s struggling, or that he doesn’t have to be the parent in his house because he’s already got two perfectly capable ones who would do anything for him. She knows he knows he’s lucky. She doesn’t need to pile on.

The quiet is interrupted by more thunder, and they both jump when one of the chairs outside slams into the window. It’s not enough to break it but there’s a sizeable crack.

‘Christ, was it that bad ten minutes ago?’

Blaine shrugs and swallows. ‘I- I don’t think we should walk home in that.’ The lights flicker for a moment, then the café is dark. Their hands link instinctively.

‘This way. No windows in the back room.’

They grope their way to the back and huddle down together on the floor, still holding hands.

‘That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about, B. If you’re not ready to come out, you don’t have to. You still seem gay as hell to me.’

He musters up a laugh. He’s about to answer when they realise it’s silent outside. Their hands squeeze, as if they’re expecting the racket to start up again, or the café to explode or something, but it never comes. There’s even light coming in through the crack at the bottom of the door.

‘It can’t be over. That was way too fast, right?’

‘Go check.’

‘You work here’.

‘I’m a tiny delicate lady; I couldn’t possibly-’

Blaine hauls himself up and pulls Santana with him. Tentatively, he twists the handle and winces when the bright light floods their tiny space.

Not only is it not raining any more, it’s also not night-time. And they’re not in the café – it’s like an old school diner. Blaine and Santana take one look at each other and snigger, before looking down at themselves: Blaine looks like he should be in a barbershop quartet with his little bowtie and sweater vest, while Santana’s jeans and t-shirt have been replaced by a poodle skirt and cardigan, with a little white hat pinned to her completely stiff hair, piled up on top of her head.

A man with a too-big smile tosses her an apron. ‘Come on, sweetheart, table four are waiting on those burgers!’ He shoves a silver tray piled high with food into her hands.

‘Excuse me?’

They look out at the scene in front of them. A jukebox. A blackboard featuring today’s specials. Steaming plates of pancakes, waffles and fries, tall milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries on top. The place is rammed with teenagers, the girls all dressed like Santana, boys in letterman jackets with their hair slicked back.

There’s one other noticeable difference.

This place doesn’t have a single speck of colour.

The rain may have stopped, but it looks like a shitstorm has just begun.


	2. Chapter 2

'Blaine. Blaine. Blaine what the fuck is happening what the fuck what the fu-'

'I- I don't know, I don't know any more than you do- oh my god.'

'Where are we? I can't be stuck here – what about home? We need to go home.'

The smiley boss comes up to them again. She expects him to get annoyed with her, but his smile hasn't faded at all. 'Did you forget where table four is? Over there, silly Simon!'

When she looks in the direction he's pointing, she notices the people sitting at the table. She nudges Blaine and nods over to them. 'Don't they go to our school? Isn't that the gay club kid?'

'Kurt, yeah, that's him. Tana, they're just staring at you. Maybe you should take them their food.'

'Unbelievable. We fall through a wormhole and I'm still the only one with a job.' She huffs and makes her way to the table, dumping the tray and coming back to Blaine. He sees the customers looking confused and upset.

'Um, please don't bite my head off, but you might want to try smiling. Look around; I think that's the only option here.'

'Smile? Ew. And… here? Where is here?' She leans in close, because even though she's spiralling, shouting in here would just feel too out of place. 'Why the fuck are we in black and white?'

'I – maybe if we-' he pulls her back into the cupboard, closes the door, and opens it again. No change. He tries again, waiting a few seconds longer. Nothing. Santana groans and walks out.

'Okay, that was super fun, but maybe now we should try something else.'

'What a helpful attitude! Thanks! I'm sure turning on each other will make this so much easier! Do you have a better idea?'

She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a slow breath. 'Fine. Right. Well, apparently, these people need milkshakes, so I'll do that for now, I guess? Hey,' she grabs the man she assumes is the boss, 'hey guy. What time do I finish today?'

He laughs. 'Well, aren't we a forgetful Freddie? Six o'clock, same as every Wednesday!' He laughs again and walks away to take another order. She's pretty sure everybody here already has a full glass and full plate, but she doesn't have time to care right now. She looks at the clock.

'That's two hours. You go and take a look around and see if you can figure out… anything. Literally anything. But especially how to get home.'

'Right. Good idea.' He checks his wrist and there's a watch which wasn't there before. Handy. 'I'll come back here at four. Are you going to be okay here?'

She shrugs. 'Looks like I don't have a choice.'

He smirks.

'Just don't forget that big ol' smile!'

She smiles at him, and he wishes he hadn't said anything. She looks like she's about to murder him and really enjoy it. 'Where's your phone, B?'

He frowns. He checks his pockets. Empty. 'Oh.'

'Yeah. Looks like your extra-curriculars are on hold.' He would give a limb for a good comeback, but he comes up empty. He nods sheepishly and heads for the door. 'I hope you have a super day!' she calls gleefully after him.

Some of this is laid out like Lima, but it couldn't feel more different. It's clean. There are trees planted on the sidewalks. There are no vape shops or phone shops and not a Starbucks in sight. He looks into the window of one store full of televisions, all black and white of course, and there's a weatherman beaming as brightly as the cartoon sun next to him. 'Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day in Lima – warm sunshine, just like yesterday, and the day before, and… every other day!'

He keeps walking, passing a soda shop, an ice cream shop, a florist, a drug store, and every single person who walks past him is smiling. The clothes are all so dignified – those beautiful dresses, the hats, the waistcoats – the past may have sucked, but the aesthetics really were to die for. He sees two men in three-piece suits bump into each other, and rather than getting aggressive or even muttering under their breath, they both stop and apologise, even shaking hands afterwards.

He's definitely not in his Lima any more.

The school is spotless. No trash. No graffiti. No groups smoking weed by the bike rack. The huge noticeboard at the front advertises the 'Big Game' coming up soon.

He gets to the end of Main Street – he makes a mental note so he can get back to the diner easily – and turns the corner onto Elm Street. This one is residential: white picket fences, manicured lawns, flowerbeds bursting with life, even if every flower is just another shade of grey. Every person who sees him gives a big smile and wave and a 'Hi there, Blaine! Lovely weather we're having!', and he can't help smiling and waving back. He's a cynical little shit, but he's largely just blending into his surroundings, and his surroundings usually contain Santana. It's easier to be polite back so nobody suspects anything unusual.

He keeps walking, but when he looks up it says 'Main Street' again. That can't be right. He looks back. Wait – how is he back at the diner? He walks to the end of Main Street again, turns onto Elm, and the other end, there's Main again.

Well, he figures, at least he'll be able to find Santana again easily enough.

On his third lap, a woman calls to him from her doorstep.

'Blaine, darling, how was school? Come inside and have a cookie, fresh out of the oven!'

Her light dress (at least it's a lighter shade of grey than some of the others he's seen) pulls in at the waist and flares out, down to just below the knee, not unlike the outfits he's seen on every other woman in town. She's wearing shiny heels and pearls, even though as far as he can tell she's not going anywhere special. She's tall, with dark curls and a soft smile.

'Um, sure. That would be lovely.'

He follows her into the house, and tries to take in as much as he can, but what stands out is the picture over the fireplace: this woman, with a man and two teenagers. Not just any teenagers. Him and Santana. He decides to risk it. 'Mom?'

'Yes, sweetie?' They sit at the table together and she pushes the plate of cookies towards him. He takes one and bites into it somewhat warily, but it's delicious. Perfect. Like everything else in this house.

'Oh just, um. How was your day?'

She smiles, caught off guard by the question. She clearly doesn't get asked often.

'It was just lovely. I baked you these cookies, and there's a roast in the oven for dinner. And obviously, I made the beds and dusted and cleaned. Nothing unusual.'

'Okay,' he nods, taking a sip of the milk she's poured him. 'Is dad… at work?'

'Until six, same as always.' Blaine nods again.

'How was school?'

She's staring at him, right into his eyes, with none of the worry he's seen in his own mother's face. She just smiles at him easily and waits for his answer.

'Fine. Just, you know, school. Classes and stuff.'

'And basketball practice?'

He almost chokes on another bite of cookie. 'Basketball?'

She nods, waiting for an answer.

'Oh, great. I love basketball. I'm, uh, good at it, I guess.'

'Well, I knew that, Blaine! That's why you're on the team!'

He gestures towards himself, his mouth hanging open. 'Me- I? Yes. Yes I am. On the basketball team. That's normal.'

She smiles and sips her tea, replacing the cup on the saucer and breathing a deep, contented sigh. Blaine is convinced she would sit frozen like that for hours if nobody else was here. There's a clock on a shelf by the window, and it says 5:45.

'Oh, Santana finishes soon. I said I'd go and meet her at the end of her shift. Oh, uh – is that strange?'

She chuckles. 'Of course not, dear. That's what good brothers do.'

Blaine watches her for another moment, nodding uncertainly. 'Mm-hmm.'

He arrives at the diner to see Santana talking to the boss. He takes a seat at a free table and busies himself with the menu. She puts a coke in front of him and sits down.

'I am in so much pain.'

He frowns. 'It's been two hours. Is that the most you've ever smiled?'

'Do you have any idea how much underwear I have on right now? Because I actually don't, I just know it's a lot because I can barely breathe. Drag queens should get medals for being cinched in like this.'

'But you look so good, it's worth it, right?' Blaine smirks.

'I will poke your eye out with one of my boobs. They're pointy enough in this. Don't test me. So, what did you find out?'

'Okay, I have some good news, I think, and some – I don't know, weird news?'

'Good first. I'm in no hurry to get more weird.'

'Right.' He sips his drink. 'So, I know where we live. Which means that however annoying it is that we're here, at least we're not homeless here. Honestly, I don't think the people here would be able to cope with a homeless person.'

'What do you mean?'

He shakes his head. 'I'll get to that. First – we're siblings. I was walking and this lady asked how my day was, and she's got a bunch of pictures of us with two white grownups and she didn't think it was weird when I tried calling her mom, so either she's an axe-murderer, or she's our mom and we're brother and sister.'

'They're white? Am I adopted?'

'Tana, you know I'm-' she points at him, mouth open, ready to argue, 'No, we're not having the white-passing-privilege conversation now-'

'Not having the conversation is-'

'Is part of the privilege, I know, but genetically – it doesn't matter. Everybody's grey here anyway, so I guess it doesn't make a difference now. Either way, our mom is really nice and I didn't meet the dad yet but he'll probably be there when we get back.'

'And how do we get there? Is it far?'

'That's the weird part. Nothing's far.' She raises an eyebrow. 'I mean, there's only two streets. This one, and the one with our house on it. And they kind of…' he tried to demonstrate with his hands, turning his finger in little spirals, 'loop round.'

Instead of asking more questions, Santana gets up and goes outside. Blaine tries to follow her as she marches away from the diner, but he decides to stop and wait. It's not like they can lose each other here. He was waiting for her with a smile when she appeared again from the other direction.

'You should know before you get mad that your tone will be heavily undermined by your bobby socks.'

She glares at him, but breathes deeply to try and calm herself down. 'Fine. Let's go and… meet our parents, I guess.'

Blaine nods in the direction of home (although the opposite direction would work just the same), and they walk together in silence.

'Dad? Mom? We're home.' The word 'mom' feels almost alien on Santana's tongue. She never lets herself miss it, but she squirms a little saying it now.

'Hello, my darling girl.' Mom kisses her on the cheek and cups her face with one hand. 'How was work?'

'Long.'

Mom chuckles to herself. 'You girls these days, going out and getting jobs. I could never have done that when I was your age. Things change so fast.' Santana and Blaine look at her quietly for a moment. They can't tell if this change is good or bad. 'Anyway, time for dinner. Your father's already at the table.'

A full ten minutes go by before they even see their father's face. Hidden behind his newspaper, he replied with the occasional 'yes, good evening' and 'oh, all fine' when they tried to speak to him. It isn't until he lowers the paper to eat that they finally see him – bushy brows, ruddy complexion, a generally unimpressed expression.

They both feel a little insulted that this is supposed to be their heritage now.

They get through an entire conversation about his work and neither can say what he actually does for a living. They know it's in an office with lots of other men. They know he has important clients and reports and presentations but that's about it – oh, and that Peterson wore a bad hat today. Whoever Peterson is. He doesn't say a word to his wife.

'Dinner is delicious, mom. Thank you so much.' Santana feels the need to compensate for the lack of appreciation. Blaine smiles at her.

'Couldn't agree more.'

They manage some more polite conversation for their mother's sake, which isn't easy when neither of them actually remembers the school day she's asking them about, but soon enough they make their excuses so they can go upstairs and debrief.

'Okay, kids, just don't study too hard!'

Disturbed by the lace curtains, floral wallpaper, and more posed family portraits than Blaine's house (and at least his real parents like each other) they make their way upstairs and sit in one of the bedrooms. They realise it's probably Santana's as it contains china dolls and pony wallpaper. The other one has framed pictures of Blaine playing baseball.

'Okay, I need to change; I can't cope with this anymore. Look away.' She rummages through her closet and finds something pale, floor-length, covered in frills and lace, but at least it looks loose-fitting and not pointy. Blaine tugs a little at his bowtie, relieved that this is the extent of his discomfort.

'We need to get out of here.'

'I know that. I need to get back to Luna. But until we figure out how to do that, we just need to figure out how to be here for a while. If I can figure out this fucking- ow!'

'All okay back there?'

'Yeah, it's just… complicated. I've got it.'

'Santana, we're two gay teenagers stuck in the 50s. I know how this ends, and it's not good for us. We'd have to keep everything a secret.'

'And that would be different from normal because…' He frowns. 'Sorry. But I haven't been harassed once today, unless you count being called sweetheart, and somehow that doesn't feel creepy here. I'm sure you can still find some dude with secret gay feelings to drag down an alley somewhere.'

Blaine blinks in disbelief that she's being so calm.

'There are no alleys. There are two very open streets full of boys and girls walking side by side – not even holding hands – and blushing just from talking to each other. Half of them are probably feeling out of place but denying it.'

'Well, at least here my dad has a job. I don't have to worry about-' They both know she hasn't stopped worrying about Luna since they climbed out of the store cupboard a few hours earlier. 'Anyway, since when do you care about other people's feelings? It doesn't suit you. These people aren't even real. Hey,' she taps his shoulder to show him her nightgown. 'What do you think? Enough to turn you?'

'Hmm. You look like my grandma. Only not dead. Hot.'

'Whatever, homo. You guys are supposed to appreciate fashion.' She sits next to him on the floor and they both lean against her bed. 'Blaine, I have no idea what to do. There's no logical way out of this.'

'Then should we try and think of dumb ways to get out of it?'

She laughs and after a pause, shrugs.

'Fuck it. Why not? Dumbest ideas. Go.'

'Oh, right now, okay – uh, we burn this whole place to the ground. If we die here, maybe we wake up back home and this was all a dream.' She pinches him. 'Ow, okay, it's happening, but we're just brainstorming.'

'Right. If we do die though, we might just, like. Die. So we'll call that Plan B for now. What else? Um… is there, like, a big event happening here soon?'

'What are you talking about?'

She sighs. 'I'm just thinking, if this was a movie, there would have to be some big, like. thing, where shit happens and we go home. Right?'

'Are you just describing… story structure?'

'Fuck you, I'm trying.'

Blaine tilts his head. 'The Big Game. The sign outside school said there's a big game on the – the 23rd?'

'When's that? Do we know the date? 23rd of what?'

'I don't know if they even have months here; apparently it's always sunny. But a Big Game, that could be a big event, right?'

'In this town, a sneeze would be a big event. So yeah. What game?'

'I guess basketball. According to Mom, I'm on the team.' Santana has to cover her mouth so her laughter doesn't echo down the stairs. 'What? It's not like it was my idea!'

'No, of course not. It was mother nature's plan for you all along. That's why she gave you this frame, the perfect build for a basketball team. In elementary school.' He holds his middle finger up to her. 'God, I hope we don't have to win the game or we're never going home.'

'Fuck you, it's not like I can magically grow a foot taller- wait. Growth.'

'I highly doubt they'll have steroids here, B-'

He grabs her hand. 'No, no. In any movies when something like this happens, the people have to, like, grow. They have to achieve something or help somebody or just, you know, be better.'

Santana's face falls and Blaine hears a muffled groan.

'Are you telling me we have to be nice? Is it too late to revisit the fire plan?'

'Come on, think about it. When weird shit happens to people in movies, they always learn something profound from it. Maybe it isn't as obvious as being nice; maybe it's something more specific.'

She groans even louder this time. 'So we have to narrow it down? That's even worse! I have like twenty different things I need to fix.'

Blaine's face suddenly turns serious. 'Hm.'

'Hm? What does "hm" mean? What are you thinking?'

'It's probably nothing, it's just – that guy I met up with last night. He said something about how people like him had worked for decades so people like us could live a better life. He was really intense. For someone that femme.'

He turns his head to see Santana glowering at him.

'Let me get this straight.' Her voice is almost a whisper now. He knows that's dangerous. 'You were slutting it up too much and you pissed off some magical old queen, and that means I have to: 1. Wear a fucking cage around my waist. 2. Leave my baby sister who needs me, and 3…' She narrows her eyes at him, 'Smile?'

Blaine audibly gulps.

'Maybe?'

'Ew. Ew, Blaine, I hate you. So do we have to stay here until you start the whole gay rights movement from scratch? What's the plan?'

He kneads his forehead with his knuckles. 'I don't know. Hey, we don't even know if that's it – that was the dumb idea brainstorm, remember? Look, we have no way of figuring this out for sure now anyway. We need to know more first. We'll go to school tomorrow and see… something. Just try and get through it until we have more information. And it couldn't hurt to be nice, too.'

'Fine,' she forces out through gritted teeth.

They hear Mom's voice calling up from the foot of the stairs.

'Okay, you two. Time for bed!' Blaine glances at his watch and shows it to Santana. 8:30. 'I'll be up to say goodnight in a minute!'

They can't even argue – today has been a lot longer than it was supposed to be, and with the various other stresses, they realise they're exhausted. The sibling thing hasn't really felt weird so far, but saying goodnight adds a level of oddness. Blaine's not sure if he should hug Santana. They don't normally, so why now? Okay, there are plenty of reasons, but he simply gives her shoulder a light squeeze.

'Night.'

'Yeah. Hope it's not too empty for you.'

He snorts, but that's when he catches a glimpse of their parents' bedroom. It might be the strangest thing he's seen all day, despite that bar being set spectacularly high. He sprints back down the hall to Santana's bedroom.

'Tana tana tana you need to see this-' He grasps her elbow and pulls her along despite her protests.

'Get off me - what is it, you weirdo?'

He points into the master bedroom.

2 single beds.

'What, you think they're having marital problems or something? Cool, you're in a totally different life, and I'm back in my house when I was twelve. Love this journey for me.'

'Santana, they don't even have litter here. Do you seriously think bad marriages exist in this place?'

'Were we at the same dinner tonight?'

Blaine sighs in exasperation. 'No, you're not getting it. The couples I saw in town were all shy and not touching. Our parents sleep in two single beds. Tana, this place hasn't discovered sex yet.'

She looks at him and starts shaking her head. 'No, no, Blaine, don't say it.'

He grins. 'I think I just found my purpose.'

She gives a peculiar growl of frustration. 'Go to sleep, you horny minx.'

He smiles sweetly. 'Weirdest thing, I can't hear you all of a sudden. I guess you're a woman in the 50s, so your opinion isn't as important as mine.' She tries to thump his arm but he dodges it. 'Being related to you is delightful. Night, sis.'

He's just lying down when Mom comes in. She sits on his bed and leans down to kiss his forehead. 'Goodnight, my sweet boy. I love you.'

He can't even cringe – it's so earnest and warm. 'Love you too. Night, Mom.' She smiles and leaves to go to Santana's room. As he lies alone, in this room full of photographs of memories he doesn't have, he realises this is his first night without any kind of sexual encounter in… he's not sure how long. He doesn't wish there was a guy here. He wishes his real parents were here to say goodnight to him. This is the point when most nights he's frantic with his need to avoid this loneliness. All he can do now is lie with it and listen to his own breathing until he eventually falls asleep.

Mom gives a little knock before she comes in to see Santana. 'Everything okay, honey?'

Santana briefly looks up from the covers she's pulling off the bed. 'Yeah. Night, Mom.' Mom doesn't leave, and Santana realises this bed-time chat is obviously a thing here. She climbs into bed, and Mom sits on it, stroking Santana's hair back.

'You're such a wonderful young lady.'

'Oh.' Santana has never been called that in her life. 'Thanks.'

Mom frowns. 'That's why it's so worrying when I hear you shouting from all the way downstairs. That's not something nice young ladies do.'

The rage immediately jumps to a nine. Santana just about manages a slow breath in and out.

'Mm-hmm.'

'I just can't stand the thought of you and Blaine fighting. Your brother loves you very much, you know.'

Santana stifles a laugh.

'Right. You know, he was being loud, too.'

Mom chuckles. 'Oh, well, you know boys. They just have all that energy; they can't help it.'

Sirens blare in Santana's head, howling 'RED ALERT. RAGE LEVEL TEN.' She closes her eyes for a moment. 'It's not her fault. Different time. Not her fault.' She looks at Mom again.

'You're right. I'm sorry. I'll try to be… nicer.'

'Sometimes I wonder if that job is a good idea. Soon enough, you'll be graduating, then getting married and having children like I did. I worry you're learning all the wrong things.'

Santana had limits.

'It's okay. I should keep working. We don't have to have the exact same lives. It won't hurt me.'

Mom just gazes deep into her eyes.

'Goodness, I suppose you know best. I must be old-fashioned.' She takes Santana's hand. 'It's only because I love you. You know that, don't you? I want you to be happy.'

Sure, happy. With a husband who barely speaks to you and nothing to do all day but cook and clean.

'I know, Mom. I love you too.'

'Goodnight, my wonderful girl.'

Santana smiles. She doesn't even have to force it.

'Goodnight.'

Mom kisses her cheek and leaves, and Santana stares at the ceiling, her eyes stinging. Of course, she knows this isn't her real mother, but that closeness is something she never lets herself miss any more. She is already scared of having to lose it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's all Blaine and Santana now, but there will be more interactions with the others in the next chapter, including some Kurt and Brittany.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana frowns.

‘Are you sure this is McKinley?’

Blaine shrugs.

‘It’s… a version of it.’

‘But people are smiling.’

‘Try not to wreck it.’

She pinches his arm, making him squeak in pain.

‘Sorry. Had to get it out of my system before this starts.’

With their outfits squeezing everything a little too tight, they both struggle to keep up their smiles as they take a deep breath and keep walking closer to the school. They’ve both pretty much copied the outfits they’ve seen in their pictures around the house, figuring it’s probably best to try and fit in. They barely make it onto the premises before they are ambushed by teenagers – Santana by cheerleaders and Blaine by the basketball team.

They’ve never experienced interactions like these before.

The cheerleaders’ uniforms are much less provocative than Santana used to have to wear – cream sweaters with a grey ‘M’ on the chest, with grey skirts almost down to the knee – neither about the teasing nor the pleasing. She knows all the girls who seem desperate to talk to her, and not remotely afraid of her: Quinn, Tina, Rachel and Mercedes all start babbling while Santana tries to catch her breath.

‘Hi, Santana! How are you?’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to join the team again?’

‘You were always so peppy! Please come back!’

Santana has to rein in a grimace. 50’s Santana sounds terrible.

‘Oh, um, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on right now.’ Not a lie. The four of them start showing her their latest routine to convince her to join, and she could learn it in her sleep. Lots of side-stepping, shaking pom poms, and ‘Come on, McKinley, we want you to win-ley’. Yikes. The levels of difficulty have apparently risen astronomically in the last few decades. She thinks this might be more manageable than Sue’s increasingly life-threatening routines. Joining this squad is almost appealing, and she’s thinking about agreeing, when she feels something on her hand. She flinches but realises it’s someone’s pinky finger tugging on hers. She looks up to see Brittany, blonde ponytail bobbing as she hops from one foot to the other in excitement.

‘Oh my gosh, are you thinking about coming back? Oh, Santana, please do it! Try-outs are this afternoon, and it’s not long until the Big Game!’ She does a little jump and adds, ‘If you’re cheering with us, we’ll definitely win!’

The girls have finished, and they all smile expectantly at Santana. Her instinct is to keep up the front and make sure she stays consistent, especially with Brittany. Being mean to Brittany is the last thing she ever wants to do, but she normally has a whole shtick to maintain. Looking at the cheerleaders in front of her, out of breath and giggling together, she realises that reputation doesn’t exist here. Nobody here will notice if she’s nice. It would probably be more suspicious to be cruel.

‘Please, Santana. Final try-outs before the Big Game are tomorrow. I’ll help you get ready!’ Santana lets herself look (gaze? No, no, definitely just a look. It’s fine.) into Britt’s eyes and that smile and all she can do for a moment is nod with her mouth hanging open. One thing that doesn’t feel remotely different here is the way her stomach swoops when she sees that girl beaming at her. She swallows and manages a ‘yeah, sure, okay,’ and the girls crowd in to hug her. Immediately, her shoulders tense and she sucks in a breath. Luna is the only person she ever lets this close, and the reminder twists in her stomach. The girls eventually give her a little more space, and Rachel looks at her quizzically.

‘Smile, Santana! You’re supposed to be cheerful!’

Santana tries to get her face into a smile shape. It convinces the others, but reminds her what had put her off cheering in the first place. Switching this on for a crowd isn’t easy, even here.

‘Hey, buddy! How’s it going?’

Blaine can’t remember ever having had a full conversation with these guys, and they don’t seem eager to break that tradition.

He nods at Finn. ‘It’s going good, uh, pal. How are you?’

‘We’re all just excited for the Big Game! Not long now!’

‘Oh, sure! The Big Game! Hey, remind me, when is that again?’

A hard slap on the back from Puck almost knocks him over. ‘Get a load of this guy! Acting like he doesn’t know when the big game is!’

The guys – Finn, Puck and Mike – all laugh to each other, as if it’s the dumbest question in the world, but still not answering him. Kurt laughs too, but it’s less enthusiastic. He smiles encouragingly at Blaine, who just wishes he’d noticed sooner how pretty this boy was.

‘Anyway, we’re practising during gym this morning so we can make sure you’re ready! It’s gonna be swell!’

‘Yeah, swell!’

Baffled, Blaine watches them high five each other, more back slaps and big smiles.

‘Okay, great, so, um… what else is new with you guys?’

He receives four blank stares.

‘I mean- what’s happening with you other than basketball?’

They glance at each other, brows furrowed. Finn gives Mike a desperate look for an explanation, but he shrugs and they all go back to staring at Blaine.

‘Oh boy. I’m- I’m kidding! It was a joke!’ Sighs of relief all round, and Puck nods in approval of this hilarious prank. They all laugh, their faces no longer scrunched up in fear and confusion.

‘Classic Anderson!’ Puck punctuates himself with another hearty slap on Blaine’s shoulder, and Blaine decides he made a good choice not being part of this before.

‘Haha, yeah! Go, uh…’ he glances around for a banner or poster or something. Could he just say Wildcats and hope for the best? ‘Go… team!’

Finn’s goofy smile widens as he nods. ‘Go team!’

The bell rings and Blaine could cry with gratitude. He looks over at Santana, surrounded by girls in non-slutty cheerleader uniforms with bouncy ponytails and figures she’s probably fine.

‘It’s in two weeks.’ Startled, he looks to his side to see that Kurt has hung back to talk to him.

‘What?’

‘The Big Game. It’s two weeks tomorrow. You seemed really confused.’

‘Oh, right. Thank you.’

Kurt hesitates. ‘Blaine, I- I liked that you asked about other things. All they ever want to talk about is basketball. And, I mean, that’s swell, and all, it’s just – I wish they wanted to talk about other things sometimes.’

He’s grateful for a second chance to talk to Kurt, and decides to do it like a normal human this time.

‘What kind of other things?’

Kurt looks ahead where the guys are goofing around with unfaltering grins, shoving into each other and laughing.

‘Oh… it doesn’t matter. We should go.’

Kurt hurries to catch up with the others. All Blaine can do is watch and follow them.

Blaine isn’t sure what it is, but basketball… sounds different from usual. He holds a ball, giving it a couple of bounces as he watches the rest of the class passing to each other, running, pivoting, and there’s the sound of catching the ball, of sneakers squeaking on the floor, and balls landing perfectly into the net, but when he pauses his own dribbling for a while, he realises what it is. The balls aren’t hitting the ground. Usually there’s a constant percussion of the balls being dribbled or thudding to the floor when someone misses a shot or fails to catch another player’s pass. But not here.

The smiles are unfaltering, the passes are all caught, every single shot at the basket goes in and someone’s always ready to catch it underneath. The coach isn’t really paying attention to him, so he decides he may as well give it a try. He slowly dribbles closer to the basket, aims carefully, and sure enough, it goes in. He doesn’t normally have the best coordination, but this isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. He tries again, a little further away. Again, nothing but net.

He keeps going – a layup, a jump shot, a hook shot – and he scores every time. At one point, he faces away from the hoop and tosses the ball behind him. He spins around just in time to see in sail right in. He even tries to miss, throwing it in completely wrong direction, and it bounces off the wall, the ceiling, and a rafter, and still lands in the basket.

‘Holy shit,’ he mutters under his breath. He checks to see if the others are watching him, but the coach is happily having the class run some drill or other. Maybe Blaine is allowed to do his own thing as he’s on the team. Either way, he’s glad nobody is looking, as he thinks he may as well try one more thing.

He dribbles for a few seconds, switching hands a few times, acutely aware that this is already more than he’s ever tried in gym class, then starts to gain speed towards the basket. He’s so sure it won’t work, but he concentrates on the hoop and leaps. Things seems to move in slow motion, and he has to resist the temptation to shut his eyes because this is bound to be hideously embarrassing, but somehow he feels the cold rim of the hoop against his hand as the ball slips through the net.

‘This place is definitely magic.’

Santana’s first class is a significantly different experience, as Blaine finds out when she dumps her tray opposite him in the lunch hall.

‘The past is the worst. Home fucking economics. First of all, I already know half of that stuff because I am a functioning human being, and second, why the hell don’t you have to learn it?’

Blaine swallows the mouthful of fries he had been chewing.

‘I guess we all have to get wives to do everything for us?’

‘I hate you.’

‘You hate the patriarchy.’

‘I can hate two things.’

Blaine tries to change the subject. ‘I had an… interesting morning.’

‘Of course you did, because you’re a man-’

‘Tana, do you want to hear about me playing basketball or not?’

She gasps and the anger dissipates. ‘Ooh, you got me. What was it like?’

He takes a deep breath, holding one hand in the air and one to his chest. ‘I, Blaine Anderson, enjoyed gym class today.’

‘Traitor.’

‘Honestly, it was the weirdest thing. I was good. Well, everybody was good; it was impossible to miss. Everybody in there was perfect every second. Santana, I dunked.’

She almost spits her sandwich out. ‘You did what? Can you fly here? Was the basket nailed onto a toadstool? Were you temporarily three Blaines hiding under a trench coat?’

He throws a fry at her.

‘Hilarious. But, seriously, this is insane. I think I might be a jock here.’

Santana can barely breathe. ‘Blaine, please, my lung capacity is limited in these clothes, you need to stop-’

She finally stops cackling a couple of minutes later, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘Okay, what do we have this afternoon?’

After lunch, it’s Science.

‘When a man and a lady love each other very much, they get married. And then they have children. That’s where babies come from.’

Santana gives Blaine a wide smile and a thumbs-up, as if to say, ‘good luck screwing anybody in this town.’

Blaine ignores her in favour of looking around the room. The other students all have their books open and pens in their hand, but nobody writes anything down – probably for the best, as everything the teacher is saying is nonsense. He flicks through the textbook on his desk, and it’s empty. He angles it to show Santana, but she’s too busy looking at Brittany to notice. He smiles. He may even be kind enough not to make fun of her for it later.

They end the day with Geography. The teacher points to a map on the board – a map consisting of two big roads and nothing else.

‘So you walk down Main Street, and then you can simply turn onto Elm Street.’

Again, the class is nodding and smiling, but not writing a thing. Santana raises her hand, and Blaine tries to glare at her to stop, but she either doesn’t notice or ignores him.

‘What’s outside of Lima?’

The whole class turns to stare at her. The teacher’s smile falters for a moment.

‘I… I’m not quite sure what you mean, Santana.’

‘I mean,’ she makes a circle with her hands, ‘we’re in Lima, right?’ The teacher nods, slowly. ‘So what’s outside of this? Like, where is Lima?’

The teacher’s smile returns to its previous certainty. ‘Oh, silly! It’s in America!’

Santana glances at the enormous American flag hanging to her left. ‘Uh-huh, I got that. But, you know, where in America?’

The teacher lets out a breezy laugh before pointing at the street map again. ‘Well, right here of course!’

The tension eases in the classroom, and Santana’s shoulders sag in resignation. ‘Right. I remember now. Thanks for explaining!’

The teacher just keeps on smiling.

*

They’re in shock most of the walk home.

‘At least we have more information, I guess?’

‘Yeah. The only hitch is it all sucks. But not for you, tiny gay LeBron.’

‘Good one. Anyway, what’s up with you and all the cheerleaders? They seemed pretty obsessed with you this morning. And with one of them it seemed mutual.’

Even in monochrome, he can tell she’s blushing.

‘Oh, it’s like at home. I used to be on the squad and now I’m not, but I’m actually… trying out tomorrow after school.’

Blaine isn’t even trying to contain his grin. ‘Really? And who could’ve possibly convinced you to do that?’

‘Oh, right, and how’s your plan to invent sex going? Did you get all dirty in the locker room with those big tall jocks this morning and forget to tell me?’

He scoffs. ‘Ugh, as if. They’re all idiots. I heard the phrase ‘Big Game’ seventy times this morning and only one of them would actually tell me when it is.’

‘Oh, crap. Now I have to choose between making fun of you for the “someone” and finding out how long we have.’

‘It’s two weeks tomorrow.’

Santana stopped walking. ‘Does that actually help us? Or do we now have a deadline that we made up to do… something we don’t even know about?’

Blaine shrugs a little hopelessly. ‘No idea. Do we just have to try and survive without screwing everything up for two weeks? Or do we have to try and fix it?’

‘Maybe you just need to quit the basketball team and restore balance to the universe.’ He laughs, and she pauses before adding, ‘It was Kurt, wasn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘He gave you a real answer about the Game.’

He hesitates. ‘Are you going to make it into a whole thing?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. But maybe you should. For your “purpose” or whatever you called it.’

‘Or maybe it would be good for me to have one friend here who isn’t you.’

She pinches his cheek. ‘Well, if that doesn’t have him swooning, I don’t know what will.’

They get through another odd dinner, Dad paying more attention to his paper than anything else, while Santana and Blaine are extra nice to Mom to make up for it. Blaine notices that Santana is eating faster than usual, and is about to ask why when the doorbell rings. She can’t get up to answer it quickly enough, and Mom is shocked that she’s left the table without permission.

She feels flushed and breathless when she opens the door to see Brittany, still in her uniform, smiling brightly at her.

‘Hi! Are you ready to make the best routine ever?’

Santana nods eagerly and steps out to join her.

‘Santana? Honey?’ Mom appears in the doorway, frowning. ‘What’s going on? I’d rather you didn’t just disappear from dinner without telling me where you’re going.’

‘Oh, sorry, it’s just – I’m trying out for cheerleading tomorrow, and Brittany said she’d come over and help me practise.’

The frown vanishes. ‘Oh, darling, that’s wonderful – and Brittany, that’s so kind of you! Well, don’t let me stop you, you girls get to it!’ While Brittany fluffs up her pom poms, Mom comes out and takes Santana’s hand for a moment. She has to stop herself from yanking it back. ‘Sweetie, it’ll be so good to see you back in that uniform. It always made you so happy, cheering.’ Mom kisses her cheek, and goes back inside, beaming.

Santana just stares at the door for a moment, until Brittany says ‘Ready? Okay!’

When Mom gets back to the kitchen, she’s thrown off her usual rhythm again. ‘What are you doing, Blaine?’

He turns from the sink to face her. ‘I’m just clearing up. Is that okay?’

‘Well, I- yes, I suppose. Darling, isn’t Blaine being helpful?’

Dad looks up for a moment. ‘Mm? Oh, yes. Good.’

‘Mom, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll bring you some tea in a minute.’

She looks around the kitchen, sure there must be some other job to do, but Blaine’s cleared the table as quickly as he could. ‘Oh. Well, yes, I… sure. Thank you, Blaine.’

When he brings her tea through, Mom is sitting patiently on the sofa, hands in her lap. She thanks him for the drink, and he smiles as he sets it on a table next to her. He can’t help noticing that she looks distressed.

‘Something wrong?’

‘Oh no, dear, this is lovely of you. It’s just- unexpected.’

He feels a pang of guilt, as if he’s taken something from her. ‘Oh. Well, I just thought that Santana and I are seventeen now, so there’s no reason for you to do everything for us.’

She nods solemnly. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

Blaine sits with her. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

She quickly grasps his hand. ‘Oh, Blaine, you could never do anything wrong. It’s just that- oh goodness, it’s a little embarrassing, but-’ Blaine squeezes her hand. ‘I just don’t know else to do.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, I normally spend the day cleaning and tending to the garden and getting your dinner ready, and then in the evening I clean up from that, and maybe check that your father’s clothes are pressed for the morning- but now I don’t have anything to do.’

Blaine slumps a little. ‘Oh. Well, you can do anything you want. What do you do for fun?’

She looks even more lost.

‘Oh, let’s see… some days, I have the girls over for a round of bridge, but they’ll all be busy at this time of the evening.’

Blaine imagines his own mother in this situation – she’d be cracking open a bottle of Chardonnay and forcing Blaine and his father to sit through a cheesy movie with her. He’d protest at first, but end up more invested than her, munching popcorn with a tear in his eye. It’d been such a long since they’d done that, and it’s not for a lack of effort on her part. He looks at Mom, picking at a loose thread on her dress.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever played bridge before. Could you teach me?’

Her face lights up. ‘Really? You’d want to spend your evening playing cards with your mother?’

He nods. ‘Of course.’

She giggles. ‘I’ll get the card table.’

Brittany claps and cheers for Santana as she nails the simplest routine she’s ever done. It’s just a few side-steps and kicks, shaking pom poms and chanting things about the ‘Fightin’ Titans’ – she could’ve learned it in her sleep.

‘That was so incredible! If she doesn’t let you on the team, I’m gonna call the police. They really have nothing to do in this town.’

Santana is struggling to catch her breath between laughs.

‘You know, I could do something a little tougher if you think it would be a good idea. What about a cartwheel? Or you know, it’s been a while, but I used to be able to do somersaults and flips and stuff. On my old squad, I used to-’

Brittany tilts her head to one side. ‘What old squad? You used to be on our team.’

Santana can feel her heartbeat speeding up. ‘Yes. Yes, I was. That’s what I meant.’

‘But you did the same moves as us when you were on our team. Unless you did somersaults so fast I couldn’t see them…’

‘No, no, you’re right. So, let’s just, uh, get back to what we were doing. So, it’s left, right, jump and kick, right?’

Brittany is still frowning at her when they hear the click of the door behind them. Mom smiles at the both – the most genuine smile Santana’s seen on her since they got here.

‘Hi, Mom, everything okay?’

‘Fantastic, sweetheart. I just thought I’d let you know it’s getting pretty late, so you might want to stop soon.’ Santana looks through the window at the kitchen clock. It’s already 8:45.

‘I’m sorry, I totally lost track of time. We’ll just finish up and I’ll come inside.’

Mom shrugs. It’s funny seeing her trying to look casual, but Santana doesn’t laugh. ‘Oh, there’s no rush. We don’t have to do things the same every single day. It’s fine. You two have fun. It’s so nice to see you cheering again, sweetheart.’ She sighs and goes back inside. Thankfully, it’s enough to distract Brittany from Santana’s slip-up.

‘Your mom is the nicest. But mine will probably be wondering where I am. How about we do some stretches, then I’ll go home. Okay, sit down.’ Santana does as she’s told, and Brittany sits opposite her so their feet are pressed against each other. ‘Okay, now come here.’ They join hands and Brittany pulls Santana towards her, and Santana wants more than anything to get even closer, right on top of her, and – ‘Okay, now you pull me.’ Again, she follows orders. Looking down and seeing those clear eyes staring up at her, she’s pretty sure her heart stops.

‘You know, my legs could still use some – would you mind?’ She lies back and Brittany pushes one leg up towards her shoulder and pushes gently.

‘Can you feel that?’ Santana’s scared to speak. She nods, holding her breath and swallowing. ‘Okay, other one.’ Brittany’s breath is warm on Santana’s cheek. Santana isn’t as innocent as the people here. She’s had drunker fumbles on the odd occasion she and Blaine have gone to parties – slurred whispers and frantic groping in dark bedrooms, but nothing as intimate as this. Britt’s furtive glances at Santana’s lips are unmistakable. This can’t be one-sided. Brittany’s eyes are so warm, so gentle, that it’s just too much. Santana feels her eyes start to prickle. She clears her throat, startling Brittany.

‘I think it’s time to go inside now. I don’t want your mom to worry about you.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to be sore, not with the try-out-’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m all done. I’m good. Thanks for all your help.’

Brittany smiles at her one more time. ‘My pleasure. I’ll see you tomorrow – you’re so getting on the squad!’

Santana nods and sighs. ‘Can’t wait.’ Brittany gives her a long hug and Santana could swear she feels a slight shiver run through the other girl’s body. She’s sure it goes over the standard length of a friend hug, but she tries not to get her hopes up any higher than they already are. She watches from her porch as Brittany skips down the street to her own house and goes inside. Blaine’s waiting for her with an obnoxious grin.

‘Feeling nice and limber?’

She pushes past him and goes upstairs; his smile fades and he runs after her.

‘Tana?’ He knocks gently on her door. ‘I was just kidding. You know, the routine looks really good.’

‘I’m fine, Blaine. I just need to go to sleep.’ She says through the door, wiping her eyes.

He places his hand against the door for a moment. ‘I’m sorry if I- I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He waits for a ‘goodnight’, but it never comes.

Brittany is almost home when something catches her eye. Her mother is always bragging about her rosebushes, and Britt is sure she’s seen them a thousand times, but she’s never noticed a pink one before. She stops to get a closer look at the soft pink petals that she could swear were grey this morning. Of course, it doesn’t occur to her that this is the first time she’s seen anything pink. She shrugs, and goes inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that people are bothering to follow this in 2020 is mind-boggling, but it's warming my old heart in these strange times. Thank you so much for the comments and messages, you gorgeous people! I know there still isn't much romance so far, but we'll get there!


	4. Chapter 4

Mom is always up and ready for the day before anyone else. Today, for the most part, is no different. She sets her hair; she dresses and slips into her heels; she lays the table for breakfast. This morning, however, she realises she's forgotten her earrings. She runs back upstairs and what she sees on her dresser takes her breath away.

Blaine catches Santana just before they go down to breakfast.

'Hey. Are you okay? You seemed really freaked out last night.'

She avoids his eyes. 'Oh, it was nothing. I think I just got overwhelmed. I don't want to get into it now.'

He nods. 'Okay. But I'm here if you need to talk; you know that, right?'

They finally make eye contact, and she sighs at him. 'Gay.' He laughs. That's much more their usual speed. They take their seats at the table, Dad ignoring his surroundings until they ignore him back.

'Waffles, darling?'

Mom puts Blaine's plate in front of him, and her smile seems less practised than usual.

'Mm, yes please. You seem happy today.' Mom keeps smiling. Blaine glances at Santana and notices that her eyes are strangely wide. She looks insane. She clearly has something important to discuss. The only problem, which has been a problem too many times before, is that Blaine is hopeless at reading lips.

She mouths what looks like 'oo ah er ee rin'.

'What?' he mouths back.

She nods in Mom's direction and tries again. 'Ee. Rin.'

He shrugs, utterly lost.

Santana pulls on her ear lobe and whispers 'Earrings.'

Blaine looks at Mom again, just as she turns to face them. Blaine's eyes widen to match Santana's.

Mom's earrings are a rich, emerald green. Blaine barely manages to avoid choking on his breakfast.

'Something wrong?' Mom asks, pretending she has no idea what's taken them by surprise.

'No, nothing wrong. I just agree with Blaine – you look really pretty today.' Mom stands up a little straighter. 'I especially like your earrings. Are they new?'

For a moment, Mom looks like she's got a mischievous secret to hide, but it doesn't last.

'No, I've had them for years, but… the darndest thing happened this morning!' She sits between Blaine and Santana, opposite her oblivious husband. 'Well, last night, Blaine and I had the most splendid evening playing cards, and he even tidied up after dinner, and I went to bed in the best mood and put my earrings on the dresser, just like I always do. Except something must have been different, because this morning they were green! Have you ever seen anything like it?'

They don't have time for that conversation. They both settle on shrugging and shaking their heads. Dad, however, chooses this moment to care what is happening around him.

'What's all this fuss about?'

'We were just discussing my earrings. Aren't they something?'

Blaine and Santana share a look – one that says 'brace yourself'.

Dad takes his glasses off and squints to get a look at the earrings. They expect him to explode, perhaps unfairly, as so far he's been absent-minded, not cruel. He cocks his head, then blinks and leans back to take all of her in. His face softens for a moment, until the frown returns.

'You, uh… you look- very nice, dear. They suit you.' His grey skin flushes a little darker, and he clears his throat and puts his glasses back on. 'But you should probably wear something normal if you're planning on seeing anyone else today.' Mom freezes. 'Anyway. I should probably get to the office. I-' he gets up and looks at his children staring at him, and the hurt on his wife's face. 'Thank you for breakfast. Very good.'

Mom snaps out of her trance and hurriedly takes out the earrings, her knuckles whitening as she grips them.

'My pleasure. Have a good day, honey.' He looks at her, as if he's about to say something else, but instead his brow furrows as he picks up his briefcase and leaves.

There's a pause in the kitchen after the front door closes. Santana gives Mom's arm a squeeze. 'They were still really pretty, Mom.'

Mom can't even look her in the eye. 'I- I didn't change them on purpose. I just liked them.'

Blaine pipes up. 'You know, you don't have to do what he says all the time.'

A deep breath, a clear of her throat, and a few quick blinks, and she straightens herself up. 'Yes, I do. It's fine. Look, you two should go to school. I don't want you to be late.'

They look at each other, then back at her. She's smiling again, but it's so different from the one she was wearing ten minutes ago. They mumble out their goodbyes, each giving Mom an attempt at a comforting hug, then leave her alone. The knowledge that she'll likely be alone for the rest of the day makes them walk a little more slowly.

Blaine breaks the silence. 'Was that our fault?'

She stops walking. 'Why would it be?

He falters.

'I don't know, I- I was just being nice. I helped clear up after dinner and we played cards for a few hours; I didn't think it would change anything. I definitely wasn't expecting that.' He can see her brain working while he talks.

'So you think if we do things differently, then things will just start to go into colour?'

'Maybe. But it didn't feel so good just now. Is it worth a bit of green to make her that sad this morning?'

'I don't know. Change is hard sometimes.'

They walk the rest of the way quietly, but hang back when they arrive. Kurt is with the cheerleaders, laughing with Brittany and copying the moves the girls are practising – and, Blaine can't help but noticing, kicking a little higher than them. The other boys watch curiously.

They both walk towards the cheering group and Kurt and Brittany seem so happy to see them that it fills them both with hope. Santana's quickly fades when she sees that Brittany is still entirely monochrome. Obviously, she was imagining that closeness last night. She turns to see Blaine positively fawning over Kurt.

'You're really good at those moves, like, even better than basketball. You should be on the team.'

Kurt laughs and looks all goofy and awkward, hugging him without thinking. Santana tells herself it's lame, but she's painfully jealous.

'Blaine, you're so funny. I can't be a cheerleader; I'm a boy.'

He swallows, unable to think about much other than Kurt's arms around him. He wants to argue, to tell him that as long as he's having fun it doesn't matter, but the boys appear next to them before he can get the words out. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe it would be better if Kurt just blended in with everyone else, especially here.

'Kurt, what are you doing?' Finn asks. There's no cruelty in his face, just confusion. One more thing that hasn't changed between realities. 'You're not a cheerleader. You're on the basketball team.'

Kurt, who was so carefree and happy a minute ago, suddenly tenses up. 'I- I know. I was just… playing around.'

Finn sighs with relief. 'Okay, Good. Just, you know. Boys don't do…' he gestures towards the girls, 'all of that.' Blaine thinks about home – it isn't perfect, but he knows nobody would bat an eye if they saw a boy cheering, or a girl playing basketball. 'And boys don't hug each other. If your buddy does something swell, you give him a pat on the back, or maybe even a handshake. You don't have to hug him.'

Blaine would expect those words to be said with hate and a shove, but Finn really is just trying to help and explain the right way to behave. Either way, Kurt still looks like he wants to disappear. He mumbles 'sorry,' staring at the ground.

'Hey, pal, don't worry about it!' Mike gives his shoulder a slap with the biggest, most genuine smile on his face, and Kurt smiles back and nods, despite clearly wishing the ground would swallow him. It hurts seeing him like this – Blaine doesn't even know him back home, not really, but he knows he's this confident, out-and-proud activist, not the kind of guy who would ever apologise for being himself, doing something totally harmless. Seeing Kurt hanging his head in shame for a hug and a high-kick makes Blaine's chest ache.

The bell rings and Santana ushers everyone away, smiling back at Blaine and Kurt. He's grateful for the moment to reassure him, but has no idea how to go about it. This isn't a skill he has to use often.

He puts a hand on Kurt's back – gently, not one of the hearty thumps he normally receives from the others. 'You know, it's okay.'

'What?'

'Well, joining in with the girls and- and hugging… boys. There's nothing wrong with it.'

Kurt looks at Blaine like he's speaking another language. 'Nobody said it was wrong. It's just not normal.'

He would love to tell Kurt that he's so much better than normal, but then he remembers this morning with their parents. He doesn't want Kurt to end up feeling the way his mother did earlier.

'Okay. Listen, I have, uh, homework that I need to do and I'm completely stuck. Would you mind helping me with it? We could meet at the library tomorrow afternoon?'

Maybe he can't magically fix this place, but he can give Kurt a friend. Kurt smiles a little, so it can't be that bad an idea, and it sends relief flooding through Blaine.

He nods. 'I'd like that.'

They drag through another day that would make their usual curriculum seem challenging. In English, they don't read a single word, just spend an hour practising handwriting and discussing different punctuation marks. Santana writes 'what is happening', and the teacher doesn't even read the words, just points out that they need to fit more precisely into the lines. They spend an hour of math on addition. Nothing higher than 50. By lunchtime Blaine and Santana are ready to crumble and in desperate need of a vent, but they get dragged off with their respective teams this time.

Brittany makes Santana practise her routine in front of the rest of the girls, and it excites them as much as… basically everything else. Their only criticism is that she still needs to work on the 'cheer' part of cheerleading. She plasters a smile on again.

Blaine lets the guys talk about the usual while he tries to coax some other conversation out of Kurt. He doesn't even want to hit on him here. He doesn't know how that would even work. All Blaine wants is to help him be himself without feeling like an outsider. There are some moments when he thinks he's starting to get through, but Kurt clams up again every time, scared the others will notice.

Santana manages to catch Blaine's eye before their afternoon classes start and they exchange unconvincing smiles.

In Music, they sing hymns. In Art, they paint identical pictures of a grey tree on a lighter grey background with darker grey grass underneath it. The walls are covered in more of the same picture.

Practice is just as perfect as it was yesterday. Every throw sails through the air, either to a teammate or into the net. Yesterday it was fun, but when it's another hour of exactly the same thing it's just tedious. His heart sinks to notice that Kurt isn't playing with the same ease as yesterday, like today something is putting him off. Blaine knows that the only thing that's changed is him asking questions and trying to change things.

'Looking good, Hummel!' Another damn slap on the back from Puck. 'I know somebody cheering you on is going to be very impressed!' He's nudging him playfully and Blaine feels confused yet again.

'Who? Who do you want to impress?'

***

Santana's routine is better than every other girl's at the try-outs, and she executes it flawlessly. The coach seems unsure for a moment, and confers with her assistant. Santana scowls at her until Brittany catches her eye, giving her a huge grin and two thumbs up and mouthing 'you were amazing!' Santana's face relaxes into an easy, giddy smile.

'That's more like it. Santana, you're on the team.'

The girls scream and run over to her, all talking over each other about how fun cheerleading is.

'You're going to have the best time!'

'Cheering is the funnest thing in the whole world! And we get to see the basketball team a lot, which is fun too!' Santana would be impressed at the suggestiveness in Tina's tone if the thought of getting close to the boys didn't gross her out so much.

'She's right,' adds Quinn, 'just ask Brittany.'

Brittany giggles. Santana stares at her. 'What?'

***

'You know who he wants to impress. His girlfriend!' Blaine's mouth falls open. 'Brittany, the blonde girl on the cheer team.'

'I- I know who Brittany is,' Blaine stammers out. He expects Kurt to look uncomfortable and sad but's he just smiling gently.

'You're dating Brittany?'

Kurt shrugs one shoulder, a failed attempt at nonchalance. 'Yeah. She's been my girlfriend for a while now. We've even-' he lowers his voice, 'held hands.' This is a kind of dumb teen bravado Blaine has never seen before.

'Wow. Well, you're…' kidding yourself, wasting your time- 'you're a lucky guy.'

'Oh, you don't have to tell me. She's the keenest girl in the whole school!'

Blaine locks eyes with him. Kurt tilts his head a little, wondering why Blaine looks so intense.

'And she's a very lucky girl. Really.' The smile doesn't change, but Blaine's sure he can see something else warming in Kurt's eyes.

***

'Duh, Santana,' Mercedes laughs, 'Brittany's dating Kurt. He's on the team, remember?'

'Kurt? You mean, Kurt Kurt?'

Rachel prods at Brittany's waist. 'Yeah, Kurt Brittany's boyfriend. She loves him, don't you, Britt?'

Brittany gives another shy laugh and rolls her eyes. 'Come on, it's not like we're holding hands or anything. He hasn't even pinned me yet.'

Santana scoffs. 'No kidding.'

'Oh, don't worry about that,' Tina says, helping Quinn with her ponytail, 'he'll give you his pin soon.' Right, Santana thinks, that's what that means. Pinning aside, she knows what this means for her, and for their moment last night. It was nothing.

***

When they finally have time to debrief after school, they're both in a state of shock. They sit on the grass at the front of the building, and Blaine is first to take the plunge.

'So. That was… a day.'

Santana blurts out, 'Blaine, I think I might have to talk to you about last night.'

'Oh. Not what I was expecting, but okay. What got you so upset?'

'Blaine, I know you saw; you don't have to do that. It's just that we got so close last night when we were practising – I made the team by the way-'

'Oh, congrats.'

'Thanks – anyway, it felt like we had this… moment. There was definitely tension. And it freaked me out, because normally I don't have the time or the energy, or whatever, to get into that kind of stuff. That's why I got all weird.' Blaine has a sinking feeling, knowing what he knows. He really doesn't want to be the one to tell her. 'But just now, at the try-out – it's turns out Brittany is dating-'

'Kurt.'

'Yes! You knew?'

'The guys mentioned it at practice.'

'I mean. What the fuck, right?'

'Yes! It's so weird!'

Finally being able to talk normally was such a relief. Santana gripped onto Blaine's arm as if just talking wasn't expressing her shock enough. 'SO WEIRD. Like, I think Brittany's bi back home, and she's not exactly a brain surgeon, but how can she not see that Kurt's gay? Come on, how can Kurt not get that Kurt's gay?'

'I guess it's just…' he falters, 'not a thing here.'

'God, Blaine, don't do that. Gays always existed; they were just scared so they pretended to be like everybody else.'

'No, I know that, but- I honestly just don't think it's occurred to them here. Well, when the guys talked about Brittany, Kurt looked happy. And why wouldn't he? He and Brittany are really good friends, and if sex doesn't exist here, maybe attraction doesn't either. Dating here just means sharing a milkshake, walking you to class, "let me carry your books," all that stuff. Kurt was actually bragging about holding hands with Brittany. They're just friends, and here, that's basically the same thing as dating.'

'According to her, the hand-holding has yet to take place.'

Blaine snorts. 'Figures.'

'So it's like everything else here. Nice. Strictly no more, no less.'

Blaine pauses. 'But you still had that moment with Brittany last night, didn't you? I saw you. There was definitely something there. What if all the attraction and everything else is just, like… dormant?'

'What, like, we have to wake it up? It needs to be activated? Like a volcano?'

He shrugs. 'Maybe.' He grabs her hand. 'Mom!'

'No,' she points to herself, 'San-ta-na.'

'How are you finding time to make fun of me right now? I mean, right, last night, Mom was so happy, with a real smile and everything, and all we did was play cards. She got to do what she wanted to do for the first time ever, and she was like a different person. And this morning, her earrings were green. Maybe that's why – something, like, woke up in her that she didn't know was there. Wow. And I still don't even understand bridge.'

She looks at the ground. 'Thing is, I kind of already had that idea this morning.'

'What? Come on. If this is ever going to work, you're going to have to share your theories with me as soon as they happen.' He immediately feels bad for his reaction, because she suddenly looks miserable.

'I'm sorry, it's just that- after the earrings, I was hoping that Brittany might…'

'Have been activated?'

She gives a single laugh and nods. 'But she was still all grey. I guess it was all in my head.'

There's a pause. Blaine picks a daisy from the ground and twirls it between his fingers.

'So, our current best theory is that when something changes, it goes into colour. Do you think that could be how we get out of here?'

'Maybe.'

He offers her the daisy. 'I'm sorry about Brittany.'

She takes it. 'I'm sorry about Kurt.'

He opens his mouth to argue "what about Kurt?" but one look at her knowing expression tells him there's no point. 'Thanks.'

'We should probably go and see how Mom's doing.'

When they get home, it's clear that Mom has gone into overdrive. The kitchen is sweltering and plates of food are piled high. Blaine opens the windows. 'Everything okay, Mom?'

'Oh, of course, dear. I thought we should have an extra special dinner tonight, after your father – well, I don't need a reason, do I?' The fake smile is back and bigger than ever. 'Why not treat my wonderful husband and children on a Friday evening? Darling, could you do me a favour and set the table? It should all be ready just in time for when your father gets home.'

Santana gets cutlery and Blaine gets plates, and everything is just about ready when they all hear the door open and freeze. Mom's smile is gone for a moment, but she says, 'Okay, darlings, take a seat, everything's fine!' and slaps it frantically back on.

'Honey, I'm home,' Dad calls as he walks into the dining room. 'Oh- what's all of this?'

If Mom's face tightens up any more, it might crack.

'I don't know what you mean, dear. Just cooking for my family, like always.'

Blaine and Santana have to be even chattier than usual to compensate for the silence that hangs over dinner. Mom is tense, scared of doing anything wrong, and Dad obviously feels bad about this morning but does nothing to fix it – except leave his newspaper in the hall, which is admittedly a big step for him. Blaine reels off details about basketball practice and the Big Game, Santana announces that she made the cheer squad, and everyone smiles and nods. Even knowing the potential risks, Blaine and Santana offer to clear up.

'Oh, no, that's my job-'

Blaine puts a hand on hers. 'No it isn't. We've got this. Why don't you and Dad go and sit down next door? Maybe you could play a game of cards with him?'

Santana gives Dad a nudge. 'Wouldn't that be nice, Dad? To spend time with your wife?'

He's so surprised at receiving a death glare from his daughter that he concedes. 'Well, yes, I suppose I wouldn't mind…'

'That's right, now you just get up, and- yes, good.' They go into the living room. Blaine washes, Santana dries, and soon enough the kitchen is spotless. They creep around the corner to see how their parents are getting on, but Mom is alone, sitting on the couch, working on a piece of embroidery. They look at each other.

'Blaine, she likes you the most. You should go in.'

'You just need to spend some time with her. Plus, Dad's scared of you.'

'That could be a good thing-'

Blaine shakes his head. 'Go.'

She takes a deep breath and goes in.

'Hi, Mom.' Mom looks up, meeting Santana's eyes for a moment before looking down again. 'Where's Dad?'

'Oh, he's had such a busy week. He decided to turn in early.'

Santana edges closer. 'Are you sad?'

Mom sniffs and puts on that big smile again, even though her eyes are shining with tears. 'Of course not, dear. I can't expect him to sit in here with me all night, can I?'

'It's okay if it hurts, Mom. You're allowed to feel sad sometimes.' Mom can't quite speak, but she starts to shake her head. 'I mean- I'm kind of sad today.'

She finally looks at her properly and stops trying to sew, putting her things to one side. 'Why, sweetheart? What happened?'

Santana sits down next to Mom and desperately tries not to let the tremor come through in her voice. 'It's more what didn't happen, I guess.'

'Oh. Um. Can I get you anything? I could probably bake you some brownies-'

Before she can finish the thought, Santana is leaning into her and putting her arms around her waist. She's a little stiff at first – this isn't the kind of perfect, happy conversation she's used to – but she instinctively hugs Santana close and strokes her hair.

'Oh, darling. It's okay. We can both be a little sad tonight, I suppose.'

Santana nods. She can't believe she got her hopes up about Brittany, when she's always so careful not to get her hopes up about anything. She feels like a little girl again, desperately hoping her parent can make everything better. She can't remember the last time she dared to have that thought.

***

'Dad?'

He's just staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, tie undone, hanging round his neck.

'Yes, son?'

'How come you left Mom alone downstairs?'

He takes a slow breath. 'Oh. I'm just tired.'

'Does this have anything to do with this morning?'

He glances at Blaine. 'No. I don't know.'

'Why did you make her take those earrings out? They made her so happy.'

He shakes his head. 'She would've looked… different. Out of place. She can't be happy if she's different.'

'If you changed, she would still love you.'

'I didn't say I don't love her. Of course I love her.' He looks genuinely upset – it's the most emotion Blaine has seen from him all week. He puts a hand on his arm.

'Sorry. But… maybe you could remind her sometimes. I don't think she feels very loved right now.'

Dad's gaze returns to the mirror. 'I need to get to bed. Goodnight, son.'

Blaine watches him leave, dumbfounded, then pads silently downstairs to check on the others. He hears a voice, and when he gets into the living room he sees Mom holding an almost-asleep Santana, humming to her. She catches his eye and nods. He nods back, turning away and heading up to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it keeps getting sad, but I promise it's going to get happier! People who comment go to heaven xxx


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine’s already waiting for Kurt outside the library when he arrives.

‘Sorry, am I late?’

Blaine shakes his head. ‘Not at all. After you.’ He gestures to the doors, letting Kurt in before him. They wander upstairs to the quieter section of the building – not that any of it is loud. Back home, the library was never buzzing, but here it’s even emptier. He picks a random book from the shelf so he can sit at one of the desks with Kurt, with plenty of notebooks and pens out for them to ignore just like at school. Hopefully, away from the basketball guys, Kurt will feel a little more open with Blaine.

He gets what he wanted, and then some.

‘Their routines are perfectly nice, just a little pedestrian if you ask me. I’ve helped Brittany practise, and I know she can do so much more than she’s showing.’

Even though he knows it might make him feel terrible, he takes the risk: ‘How are things with you and Brittany?’

There’s a pause. ‘Oh, great. She’s swell.’ He’s less convincing than yesterday.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Kurt doodles a butterfly on his notebook. ‘It’s fine. Sometimes I think maybe… look, can I tell you something?’

Blaine leans in and nods.

‘I lied before about us holding hands. She keeps trying to, but I feel strange. She hugs me a lot and gets in really close and it’s- it kind of- I get all nervous. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s so silly.’

‘Kurt, that’s not silly. You shouldn’t have to do anything that doesn’t feel good.’ He considers the irony of this, how much he’s done that made him feel awful, but he shakes it off. ‘Dating someone should be exciting. If you hold hands with someone you really like, it feels great.’

Kurt looks around, as if he’s scared of being heard.

‘Have you done it? Held hands with a girl?’

Blaine can’t help smiling a little at his innocence. ‘Not a girl. I mean, I would maybe hold a girl’s hand as a friend, but I-’ alarms are screaming in head, begging him to stop, because this is so huge for this place, but- ‘I don’t really date girls. I like boys.’

‘You mean as friends?’

He shakes his head. ‘I mean, like, dating.’ He’s never actually been on a date in his life, but he knows better than to try to explain apps and sex and secret meetings with questionable strangers. ‘When I’ve held hands with people the way Brittany wants to hold hands with you, it’s always with boys.’ He’s lying. Nobody has ever held his hand. But the phrase will have to be a placeholder for now.

Kurt stares at him, eyes unblinking. ‘But… how?’

‘Well, where I come from, it’s not a big deal. Dating doesn’t always means boys and girls; sometimes it’s two boys or two girls, and it’s fine.’ He realises Kurt is eyeing him with suspicion, and he worries he’s gone too far. He also hopes he’s gone just far enough to make it click for Kurt. ‘Are you okay?’

Kurt opens his mouth to speak a couple of times, but falters. Finally, he asks ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s not that compli-’

‘No, no… what do you mean, “where you come from”? You’re from here. Lima. Just like everybody else.’

Oh, god. He’s given away something a lot bigger than ‘sometimes boys like boys’ – this is something potentially universe-altering.

‘No. I mean, just a different part-’

‘Main Street? I didn’t know anybody lived on Main Street-’

‘A different part of Ohio. I used to live in Westerville, but now I live here. That’s all I meant. You know what, I think I need to make a start on this book report.’ He picks up the slim leather volume. ‘The Catcher in the Rye. God. I mean, swell! Let’s get started.’

He opens the book, praying he remembers enough of the story that he won’t have to read the whole thing, until he realises he can’t read anything at all. The book, just like the textbooks at school, is full of blank pages. He flicks through the whole thing, just in case. Nothing.

‘This doesn’t make any sense. Are all the books like this?’ He shows it to Kurt, who nods, slowly writing ‘Westerville’ in his notebook. ‘Why does this place even have a library if- this is insane.’

‘I thought you said you’d read it before. Don’t you remember what happens?’

‘God, it was such a long time ago…’

Kurt’s stopped doodling now, and he’s sitting up looking so intently at Blaine that he suddenly wishes he knew the whole thing by heart so he could tell Kurt everything.

‘Well… how does it start?’

Blaine scours his brain, trying to remember. ‘It’s about this teenager, Holden Caulfield. He’s just been expelled, and then he goes to New-’ he stops himself from expanding Kurt’s geography knowledge any further, ‘somewhere else. And he’s this really angry kid, and he keeps calling everybody a phony.’

Kurt looks at Blaine like he’s got questions, and Blaine’s too focused on hoping they won’t be about where Holden goes to realise that Kurt’s gaze has moved to the book.

‘Oh my goodness, Blaine! Look!’

Blaine looks down to see the pages fill up with text, and he yanks his hands away as if the book’s on fire. Kurt grabs it and starts flicking through the pages. ‘Blaine, how did you do this? This is incredible!’ He gets to about halfway through and the words tail off. ‘Wait, it’s not finished. How does it end?’

Blaine’s mind is blank. ‘I- I don’t think I ever finished it.’

Kurt’s face falls. ‘Oh. Okay.’

‘But I bet Santana knows,’ he scrambles, ‘we could go and ask her. She’s working today; why don’t we go to the diner?’

Kurt looks a little nervous. ‘Just the two of us? Together at the diner?’ He fiddles with the cuff of his sweater. ‘Would people think – would that be strange?’

Blaine shrugs. ‘It’s not strange to me. That’s what friends do, right?’

Kurt sighs, and Blaine would give his arm to figure out if it’s in relief or disappointment.

*

Sitting in a corner booth, Blaine watches as Kurt keeps flicking through the book. He keeps scraping the barrel of his brain for information, hoping he’ll remember more of the story, wondering how on earth he’s going to explain any of it to Kurt.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can I get you?’

Looking up at Santana, Blaine flashes back to numerous nights at the café back home. He shakes his head a little – it’s the last thing he needs right now.

‘We don’t need anything. We just need to talk to you.’

‘If there is one person without eight thousand calories of food in front of them, I think my boss will have a breakdown. Order something, then we can talk.’

Kurt looks a little thrown off by the way she acts around Blaine. ‘Could I get a cherry coke please?’

At least she can muster up a genuine smile for Kurt. ‘Sure. Anything else?’

‘I’ll have the same. Thanks.’ She leaves them alone for a moment.

‘Blaine, there’s so much of this I don’t understand. Is this all made up? What’s a hotel?’

Blaine isn’t sure where to begin. ‘The people in it are made up. But a lot of the stuff in it is real. Hotels are places where you can stay when you go out of town.’ Kurt doesn’t look any less lost. ‘Like, if you wanted to visit another place, you could pay some money, so you could stay there. So you’d have a place to sleep.’

‘And why does he get this girl to come to his room?’

Oh, shit. There’s a prostitute in this book. Can he convince Kurt she comes over for some hand-holding?

‘Here we go, two cherry cokes, and a free plate of fries because I’m delightful. I’ve got ten minutes; what’s up?’ Santana sits down next to Blaine, forcing him to shift over so that he’s next to Kurt rather than opposite him. He feels him tense for a moment, but it passes quickly.

‘I, uh, did something.’

She raises an eyebrow.

‘What kind of something?’

Kurt passes her the book.

‘Santana, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. This book was empty this morning, just like all the others, but then Blaine started explaining what happens in it, and the words started filling in!’ He can’t contain his excitement, and people around them are starting to listen in. ‘Look! Pages full of words! Did you know there are things called hotels that you can pay to sleep in if you go to a different town?’

Santana glares at Blaine. ‘So you had a busy study session, then?’

Blaine winces. ‘You could say that. I didn’t mean to do it, but – well, I never finished the book. And it feels weird that only half of it is filled in. So I was wondering… do you know how it ends?’

‘How did you not finish it? It’s like, ten pages long.’

Some of the guys from school are at the next table, and Finn leans over to see what’s happening. ‘Did you say… a different town? What does that mean?’

‘I don’t get it – you can always just walk home again; why would you need to sleep somewhere else?’

‘So all the writing and grammar practice we do – people actually use all of that?’

Before they can stop it, the information has spread round the whole diner and everyone is listening, waiting for answers – namely, for Santana to explain the rest of the story.

‘Well, basically… Holden spends all this time acting like he hates everybody, but later on he talks to his sister, and you see this whole other side to him. And as much as he wants to pretend he knows everything and he doesn’t care what people think of him, he’s actually just,’ she feels Blaine’s shoulders tensing up next to her, ‘really lonely.’

The rest of the book fills in, and the diner bursts into conversation.

‘Oh my gosh!’

‘Gee, did you see how all that writing just appeared?’

‘Are all the other books supposed to have words in them too?’

Blaine and Santana are just looking at each other. Santana’s synopsis hits a little too close to home for both of them. He looks down to see that it’s not just the inside of the book that’s filled in – the cover has gone from grey to dark blue. He grabs it and shoves it into his bag, hoping nobody else noticed, but one look at Kurt’s face tells him he’s too late.

‘Was that – was that what I think it was?’

Blaine braces himself for a huge reaction, but Kurt is just staring in disbelief. ‘Wow. That was so pretty.’ He looks up at Blaine. ‘Are you alright? I won’t tell the others if you don’t want me to.’

He nods. So much is happening so fast that it’s making his head spin, but suddenly he feels grounded again when he feels something brush against his hand. Kurt’s fingers have slid close to his and his hand looks so close to taking hold of Blaine’s that he can hardly breathe. Blaine slowly turns his own hand over, so it’s open and ready to take if Kurt wants to, and he very nearly goes for it, so close Blaine can feel the heat from his palm – but he pulls away at the last second.

‘I’m sorry. I can’t. Brittany.’

Blaine’s close to passing out. He felt more excitement in that than in any one-night stand he’s ever had.

‘Of course. I’m sorry if I-’

‘You didn’t. It was my fault – sorry.’

They could go on in an endless loop of apologies and sudden shyness, but just as the buzz from the book dies down, Tina gasps next to the jukebox.

‘The music’s changed!’

She picks a track – Santana recognises Elvis’ voice crooning out across the diner – and she and a handful of other kids start dancing. They’re useless at it, but they’re beaming and giggling, hopping from one foot to the other and twirling, and she just smiles. Even she can’t bring herself to hate this. She looks down at Blaine and Kurt again, and they’ve gone weird. They’re both sitting up extra straight and apologising and laughing awkwardly. She gets up.

‘Anyway… I better get back to work. Enjoy your drinks, boys.’

Kurt swallows. ‘I’m not really thirsty.’

‘Me neither. Shall we get out of here?’

Kurt nods.

Outside, Blaine finally feels like he can breathe properly again. ‘I hope you didn’t feel uncomfortable in there. I mean, I wasn’t trying to push you to – if you didn’t want to-’

‘No, I know you weren’t. I wanted to- I still want to. But not now.’ Blaine nods. He knows Kurt cares a lot about Brittany, even if he might not understand all of his feelings yet.

‘I like that you’re so loyal to her. You’re a good person, Kurt.’

‘But hugging can just be friends, right? Even if it’s two boys?’ Blaine’s a little taken aback – this is pretty forward for Kurt – but he nods.

‘Of course.’

‘Okay. Um,’ he inches towards Blaine, then steps back again, as if he doesn’t even know how to start this. Blaine edges forward to meet him halfway, and if yesterday was a friendly hug, this one is definitely not. Kurt isn’t just caught up in a moment this time: it’s considered and tentative, and once they finally meet their bodies fit together warmly, intimately. Blaine has to squeeze his lips together, so he doesn’t gasp when he feels Kurt’s hand pressing into his back, but he still feels himself trembling. Kurt smells so fresh, and the way he holds Blaine is firm yet so nervous. For all Blaine knows, they could be standing like that for hours, but the sun is still shining when Kurt steps away. It takes every ounce of strength Blaine has not to hold on and keep leaning into him.

Kurt lets out a shaky breath, and a little nervous laugh. Blaine manages to remain somewhat dignified, even though he wants to squeal, and just smiles.

‘Was that… okay? Did I do it right?’

‘More than okay. Lovely. As long as you didn’t feel, you know, uncomfortable.’

Kurt can’t shake his head fast enough. ‘Definitely not. Um, Blaine, do you think I could – could I borrow the book? I want to read the rest of it.’

Blaine hesitates for a moment. He doesn’t remember everything, but he knows the books gets intense, and he doesn’t want to corrupt the innocent, happy boy in front of him. But he knows it would be unfair to hold anything back. He takes it out of his bag.

‘Of course. Here.’

Kurt takes a moment to marvel at the blue cover, running his fingertips over the gold lettering on the spine. ‘Oh my goodness.’

That’s when Blaine sees it. ‘Um, Kurt.’ He gestures at the little dragonfly brooch on his chest. The silver is the same as before, but the tiny gems down its spine are bright blue. Kurt’s face lights up even more. He takes it between his thumb and forefinger, turning it so it catches the sun and glitters.

‘Oh, Blaine. Did you-?’

Blaine shakes his head. ‘No, I think it was all you.’

‘Gosh, it’s so beautiful.’

Staring at Kurt’s eyes and mesmerised by the way they manage to sparkle even in black and white, Blaine nods. ‘Yeah. Beautiful.’

‘I think… I need to go home. Do some reading.’

Blaine nods again and clears his throat. ‘Yeah. I can’t wait to hear what you think.’

‘It’s got to be more interesting than basketball.’

Once he’s sure Kurt’s out of sight, Blaine does a tiny hop and punches the air.

*

On Sunday, Santana takes Brittany out for ice cream. She’s determined to find out if she was crazy to think something happened between them before, especially now that Blaine has got some colour out of Kurt. He’s been sickening since yesterday, secretive little smiles and long, yearning sighs, and it’s great, really. She wants him to be happy. But she doesn’t want him to hog all the happiness for himself.

The girls split a sundae between them. Santana is more used to low-calorie ice cream substitutes, and can barely believe how delicious this is. Brittany dabs a blob of cream onto her nose, making her giggle. Even she wouldn’t be able to put her finger on the last time she giggled, but she’s not thinking about that now.

‘So the book really just filled in? Words on every page?’

Santana nods. ‘Yep. A whole story. And then the jukebox at the diner was full of new music, and everybody started asking a million questions; it was crazy. Blaine told me the book turned blue after we filled it in.’

‘Blue?’

‘Uh-huh, dark blue. And apparently the gems on Kurt’s little pin went into colour, too.’ She notices the mention of Kurt makes her go quiet. ‘Sore subject?’

She shrugs and prods at the cherry on the ice cream. ‘I don’t think he likes me.’

‘What? That’s crazy; how could he not like you?’

‘Well, it’s just that- I didn’t think dating someone would be like this. We talk and laugh all the time, but whenever I try to hug him, or hold his hand, he gets all funny. I always thought it was supposed to be the boy that wanted to do everything, you know, all the touching and stuff, but I feel like it’s only me. Is that bad for a girl?’

‘No, it’s totally normal to want to touch someone. Be close to them.’ Santana certainly hopes it’s normal, because touching Brittany is all she’s been able to think about since they got here. ‘Kurt likes you a lot, but maybe more as a friend.’ Should she feel guilty about this? Is she trying to destroy their relationship so she and Blaine can pick up the pieces? She doesn’t want Brittany to get hurt, but it’s not like she’s ecstatic as things are. ‘Brittany, you’re incredible. You deserve to be happy.’ She hopes that’s vague enough not to be evil.

Brittany frowns. ‘Wait. Go back. Did you say things went into colour?’

Santana narrows her eyes at her, wondering if maybe she’s just on a delay.

‘Yeah. The book, and Kurt’s brooch. And on Friday, my mom’s earrings were green.’

Britt looks up, letting out an _‘Ohhhh…’_

‘Oh what?’

‘I thought I’d just remembered it wrong.’

Santana freezes. ‘Remembered what?’

‘Well, when I walked home from your house on Thursday, one of the roses in our garden was pink. I figured it was probably always like that and I’d never noticed.’

‘The first thing you’d ever seen in your life that wasn’t black, white or grey, and you thought it had always been there?’

Brittany shrugs. ‘My brain’s like that sometimes. Things take a while. It could easily have been there for 17 years without me seeing it.’

Santana allows herself a little laugh. This sounds more like the Brittany she knows back home.

‘So before you saw that flower, did something feel… different?’

Brittany’s face hardens and she stares at the table in concentration. ‘Hm. I went to school. That was normal. I went home and had dinner with my family. That was normal.’ She looks up into Santana’s eyes. ‘You. You’re the thing that’s different.’

Ridiculously, this makes Santana feel guilty, even though this is what she wanted. It’s hard not to feel culpable when someone is pointing at her and saying ‘you’.

‘What do you mean?’

‘When we hugged before I went home, it was, like, the kind of hug I wanted to have with Kurt. Really close and…’ she licks her spoon and Santana prepares herself for the worst, ‘and nice.’

Santana sits up a little straighter. ‘Nice?’

Brittany nods. ‘Yes! I think about this stuff all the time, wanting to touch and hold hands and nobody else ever talks about it so I always think it’s just me. I thought there was something wrong with me, like I was totally different to everybody else.’

Santana inches her fingertips towards Brittany’s until they’re just touching. ‘It definitely isn’t just you.’

They walk home together and keep talking, keeping quiet in case anybody hears the scandalous details of their conversation.

‘Can I tell you something else I think about all the time? Something nobody else here talks about?’

Santana links their pinky fingers together. ‘Sure.’

Britt leans in so close it gives Santana goosebumps. _‘Kissing.’_

‘Kissing?’

Brittany nods, a sneaky smile playing on her lips. ‘I know it’s a real word, so it must be a real thing. But I’ve never even seen anybody do it. Everybody at school gets so excited when a boy and girl hold hands, but I hold hands with the girls all the time and it doesn’t seem like a big deal. Kurt freezes when I try. But I want to do so much more than that.’

Santana stops walking, and Brittany looks at her questioningly. Santana answers by pulling her pinky away just so she can hold Brittany’s hand properly, fingers intertwined, arms touching, barely standing an inch apart.

‘So this doesn’t feel like a big deal?’

Brittany has to blink so she doesn’t freeze up staring into Santana’s eyes.

‘Okay… maybe this kind of does.’

Brittany blushes, and there’s a undeniable tinge of pink in her cheeks. Santana’s heart stops for a moment when she feels Brittany’s thumb stroking against hers.

‘You really think about kissing that much?’

Yes, Santana thinks about just pulling her close and making out with her right outside her house, but she decides she’s okay dragging this out a little. She brings Britt’s hand up to her mouth and presses her lips gently against her skin. She keeps looking at Brittany’s face. Her eyes close at the contact, and she gasps a breath in and holds it. Santana thinks she might even be swaying a little.

She knows she could probably take things further and Brittany would be more than okay with it, but right now she just feels so warm and happy that it’s enough.

‘See you at school, Britt.’

Startled, Brittany opens her eyes. ‘Huh? Oh, um. Yeah. School.’ Santana tries to walk away, but Britt holds onto her hand an extra few seconds. ‘Thank you. That was… wonderful.’

Santana smiles and walks home, and when she gets there she sees someone else at the door.

‘Oh, Santana! Hi!’ Kurt is clutching a stack of grey books to his chest. ‘Do you know if Blaine’s home? I rang the bell, but nobody’s answering.’

‘Really? Okay, well, we can just go in.’

Blaine is out in the backyard with their parents. Dad is mowing the lawn, Mom is tidying the flowerbeds, and Blaine is clipping the hedge. Terribly. Every time Santana thinks she’s getting used to the situation, she gets another glimpse of Blaine doing shit like this and it becomes hilarious.

‘Blaine! Guest!’

Kurt’s mouth falls open when a very sweaty Blaine turns around.

‘Kurt! Hi!’ He tries to wipe his forehead with his arm but it has little effect. Santana looks from one to the other, both boys equally flustered and frozen, and rolls her eyes. She eases the shears out of Blaine’s hands.

‘This is the part where you walk a little closer.’

He mutters ‘shut up’ before telling Mom and Dad he’ll finish up later. They both smile and wave hello to Kurt, and Santana slaps Blaine on the ass as he goes inside. ‘Can I get you anything to drink? Iced tea?’

Kurt nods, eyes glued to Blaine’s arm where it’s just about bulging over the sleeve of his t-shirt. He has to clear his throat just to get out a ‘yes, please’.

‘What have you got there?’ he nods to the books Kurt is still gripping onto while he pours two glasses of tea. ‘Done with the other one already?’

Kurt shakes his head a little to focus. ‘Not yet. But I found these other books in the house, and I thought you might be able to help fill them in. And… I thought maybe they would go different colours.’ Blaine notices he’s wearing the same brooch from yesterday. He keeps glancing down at it every now and then, when he’s not glancing down at Blaine.

‘I’ll do what I can. Do you mind if I shower first? I’ve been working outside all day; I don’t want to get you all sweaty if we- you know, from reading together.’ He can see Kurt’s brain short-circuiting until all he can do is nod.

He imagines what he would do normally if this was a hook-up. He’d shove the books to the floor, grab at Kurt’s clothes and drag him to the bedroom. Or couch, or table, or floor, or whatever, as long as he could get out immediately afterwards. Now, escaping is absolutely the last thing he wants to do. He can’t wait to spend the afternoon talking about these books with Kurt, seeing the same excitement that was on his face yesterday.

Still.

‘I’ll be back in ten. Make yourself comfortable.’

Of course it would be easy to wait until he gets upstairs to take his shirt off. But he’ll never make a change around here if he doesn’t take some risks. When he peels it off, he’s certain he can hear a whimper sneaking out of Kurt, and he grins to himself.

Seven minutes and one attempt at taming his hair later, he comes downstairs in slacks and a loose, unbuttoned shirt. It’s a little too much for Kurt this time, who chokes on a mouthful of iced tea and drops his glass on the floor.

‘Oh, shoot, I’m sorry-’ he splutters out between coughs. ‘Gosh, what a mess.’

‘Don’t worry; I’ve got it,’ Blaine says, fetching a cloth and picking up the glass. Kurt jumps up to try and help, but slips on the tea, just in time for Blaine to catch him with an arm around his waist. ‘Are you okay?’ Blaine realises this is definitely too much. Kurt is shaking, heart pounding, blinking at an alarming rate. 

‘Books,’ Kurt blurts out. ‘I brought the books.’

Blaine stands him upright again and backs away a little. ‘Right, of course you did.’ He quickly wipes up the rest of the mess and buttons up his shirt. ‘Oh, Kurt, your sweater.’ There’s a mark on the hem of Kurt’s cardigan where the drink splashed. _Let me get you out of those wet clothes?_ No. Kurt looks close to a panic attack already. ‘If you give it to me, I can soak it and it’ll be stain-free before you leave. Let me get those,’ he takes the books and busies himself at the table long enough for Kurt to take it off without feeling like he was being stared at – even though Blaine could happily stare at him, cardigan or no cardigan, for hours. Kurt hands Blaine the sweater.

‘That’s probably a good thing. It’s ever so hot today. It’ll be easier to concentrate now.’

Blaine hums in agreement. ‘So,’ he scrubs at the splotch of tea before leaving the sweater to soak, ‘which books did you bring?’ He sits next to Kurt.

Kurt holds them up, showing Blaine the spines. ‘Only three. _Lord of the Flies_ , _Fahrenheit 451_ and _Frankenstein_.’

‘Wow. Keeping it light?’

‘Are they bad? They’ve been in our house for years, just sitting there empty. I’d love to be able to show them to my mom, all filled in and in colour.’ Blaine shifts in his seat. Even he knows that back home Kurt’s mother died years ago. It’s strange knowing that this Kurt has a perfect life in so many ways.

‘No, they’re not bad; they’re classics. I’ll explain as much as I can.’

_Lord of the Flies_ is easy enough to summarise. Boys land on island. Does not end well. The story clearly has zero appeal for Kurt, who just cannot understand why the boys can’t get along without hurting each other, which makes Blaine smile. The words fill in and the cover goes a light green, which makes Kurt smile more.

He’s still marvelling at the colour through most of the explanation of _Fahrenheit 451_. The dystopian genre just seems ridiculous in the current situation. Does this version of Lima fall into that category? Or is it the opposite? Either way, the deep red cover gives Kurt a thrill.

_Frankenstein_ is the most complicated, because this time, as disturbing as it is, Kurt is actually interested in the story.

‘And what does he make the creature out of?’

‘Out of parts of other people.’

‘Where did he get them?’

Uh-oh. Can he explain graverobbing without bringing that panicked face back?

‘Well, he took them from people who had already died, and he stitches them together and uses electricity in a storm to make it come to life.’

Kurt’s expression stays very serious. ‘And… is it okay?’

‘Short answer? No.’

‘Long answer?’

Blaine pauses.

‘Everybody is scared of the creature, because he looks so different to them. Even though he learns to speak and he just wants some companionship, some closeness, nobody is willing to let him in apart from an old blind man, and that goes wrong when somebody think he’s being attacked, and they chase him away.’

Kurt’s sad face is far worse than his flustered-sexual-tension-induced-panic face. 

‘And then what happens to him?’

‘He hates Victor for creating him. A lot of people get hurt, and in the end he’s determined to kill him.’

Kurt puts a hand over his mouth. ‘That’s awful. And what about Victor? Does he feel bad for what he’s done?’

Blaine looks at the books, at Kurt’s brooch, at the lost expression staring back at him. He nods. ‘Terrible. He knows he made a huge mistake, trying to change the way everything works. He thought he would help the world, but he just ended up hurting everyone he cared about.’

A tear rolls down Kurt’s cheek, making him touch his face in confusion. ‘Blaine, what’s happening?’

Awesome. The first tears shed here. Blaine’s mission of enlightenment just invented sadness in the happiest town in the world.

‘You’re crying. It happens when people get upset. But it’s okay, it happens for a while and then it stops. It can even feel good afterwards. Sometimes you just need to get those feelings out of your system.’ He picks up a napkin and dabs Kurt’s cheek with it.

Before Blaine even knows what’s happening, Kurt leans in and hugs him close. He isn’t fully sobbing or anything, but it’s the first sad story he’s ever heard. Blaine didn’t even talk about how many characters die. He soothes his hand over Kurt’s back. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.’

Kurt pulls away, shaking his head and sniffing. ‘No, you didn’t. I’ve just- I’ve never heard anything so… so beautiful before.’ They both glance down to see that their hands are locked together. Blaine tries to keep his hand loose, so Kurt can easily pull away if this is too much, but Kurt holds on. They look at the book again in time to see the words trickling onto the pages. Blaine flicks through – yep, all full. Kurt closes the book to see the rich, violet cover. He brings his hand, and Blaine’s with it, to his chest. Blaine can feel his heartbeat again, less frantic this time, strong and clear. ‘Oh my goodness, Blaine. Look.’ He tentatively strokes the leather. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

Blaine smiles at him. ‘Yes it is.’

Kurt lets out a deep sigh, squeezing Blaine’s hand. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much, Blaine.’

When Kurt leaves, he does so with a mustard-yellow cardigan draped around his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The books I've included have all been banned at some point, albeit not in 1950s America. In case it isn't very clear from this chapter, I am living alone during lockdown and coping SUPER WELL and if somebody touched me I would probably CRY.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week passes in the new version of Lima, and it comes with plenty of new changes and challenges.

Blaine and Santana don’t need to be dragged away from each other at lunchtime on Monday. They’re more than happy to sit with their friendship groups; they are even becoming comfortable around other people without constantly glancing over at each other. They’re too busy glancing at different people.

Things go smoothly at basketball practice: lots of points scored, some pretty severe bruising on Blaine’s shoulders from all the slaps and thumps from the other guys, and the occasional excited ‘great shot, buddy!’

But then one thing changes.

Kurt scores a three-pointer, which even here is a pleasant achievement. Without thinking, he hugs Blaine, and thinking even less, Blaine hugs back. They freeze and pull apart to see the rest of the team staring at them.

‘Come on, fellas, we talked about this,’ Finn says. ‘You’re both boys, remember?’

Kurt starts to stammer some sort of excuse or apology, but Blaine has had enough.

‘Guys, it doesn’t matter. It’s only a hug. Hugging is great. Look.’

It takes some reaching, and some stooping from Finn, but Blaine gives him a hug. Complete with a light pat on the back so it doesn’t feel too alien.

‘Oh,’ Finn says, closing his eyes and hugging harder, ‘that feels so nice!’ When he pulls back, he’s beaming. ‘Blaine, that was great! Thanks!’

Mike stares in confusion, before attempting a shot at the basket. The thud of the ball crashing on the floor when he misses completely makes everyone jump. He looks devastated, but Finn jogs over to him. ‘Hey, man, come here!’ He pulls Mike into a hug, squeezing the air out of him, until Mike is grinning too.

Practice dissolves into a series of missed shots and hugs, and they don’t even seem to care that they’re playing so terribly this close to the Big Game. A thought pops into Blaine’s head, and he’s surprised it’s taken him this long to consider it.

‘Hey guys… who are we playing against next week?’ They all look at him, heads tilted. ‘You know, the Big Game. We’re one team, and there must be another team to play against. Who are they? Where do they come from?’

Puck’s mouth hangs open. Finn frowns and looks around himself like he’s never even seen the court before. Mike bounces a ball on the ground a few times. Kurt is the only one looking at Blaine, really looking at him, remembering the word ‘Westerville’ in his notebook and that ‘New York’ place in Catcher in the Rye.

‘It doesn’t matter! I was, uh, kidding! Don’t worry about it, guys!’

So far he’s been able to shrug off little slips like that, but they’re obviously not convinced. Mike looks down at the ball in his hands, and immediately drops it. He looks at the other balls scattered around the room.

‘Uh, are you all seeing those too?’

Just at that moment, the coach comes into the gym with the school principal.

‘Oh, they’re in great shape, Bob! We’re gonna win the Big Game for sure!’

The principal, a tall, slim man with horn-rimmed glasses and a perfectly pressed grey suit, laughs until he sees the team. And when he sees the bright orange balls on the ground, his face turns to stone.

‘What are those?’

Blaine silently weighs up his options, but quickly gives up. ‘Basketballs,’ he blurts out. ‘They’re just ordinary basketballs. They’ve always looked like that.’

‘You know anything about this, Steve?’ the principal asks the coach, but he’s as dumbstruck as the team. He whispers to him, still loudly enough for the boys to hear, ‘You’re going to buy new balls. Grey ones. And you’re gonna get some life into these boys so they don’t turn up next Friday and spend the whole game just staring at the crowd. Is that clear?’

The coach nods. ‘Uh-huh. Come on, boys, let’s show some hustle!’

The boys all look a little wounded, but do as they’re told. At the end of a rough practice, they sheepishly ask each other for more hugs, and that makes them happier than any points they’ve scored since Blaine got here. Kurt’s hand lingers close to Blaine’s as they watch the other guys, just close enough to touch, and the whole scene makes him smile, but that contact makes his insides glow.

*

On Tuesday, Santana is working at the diner after school when she spots Brittany and Kurt walk in and sit together. Her heart sticks in her throat when she has to go and take their order. Brittany’s even made cookies for her boyfriend, a whole plateful she places on the seat next to her.

‘Hi, Santana!’ They say in unison when she comes over. Their smiles are so wide that Santana loses all hope.

‘Hi. What would you like?’

‘Just milkshakes, please. Strawberry for me, vanilla for Kurt, right?’

Kurt nods. ‘Yes, please.’

Does he know about them? Does he know about the kiss, albeit on the hand? Even though she knows Kurt isn’t exactly in love with Brittany, she still feels awful about potentially hurting someone so innocent. After she brings them the shakes, she can’t help but watch as they talk. They giggle and smile at each other, touching hands over the table. Not holding, a fact she clings to, but poking and prodding teasingly. It’s a hard dynamic to pin down, second perhaps to hers and Blaine’s.

Kurt finishes his shake first, and the tone shifts. They’re both still smiling, but as Santana delivers burgers to the next table, she catches a glimpse of him giving a sigh of relief. They stand up, hug for a long time considering how uncomfortable Blaine said it makes him, and he leaves. They are both still smiling. Brittany sits down again, placing the plate of cookies on the table and sipping her milkshake. Santana can’t resist.

‘Can I get you anything else?’

Brittany’s smile grows and she shakes her head. ‘Nope. I’m fine, thanks.’

‘What’s up with the cookies?’

‘Oh, I baked them.’

‘For Kurt? Did you forget to give them to him? He can’t have gotten far-’

Brittany shakes her head again. ‘I didn’t bake them for him. I brought them here because I knew you were working today.’

Santana can feel her cheeks heating up, and for once she really hopes she stays grey.

‘For me? But… why not for Kurt?’

‘We had a talk. Kurt and I are just going to be friends. I was really worried, but he seemed happy about it. That’s the first time he’s ever not frozen when I’ve hugged him.’

Santana knows there’s so much she should say, so much she’s wanted to get off her chest for days, but she’s frozen. Brittany stands up.

‘Do you know what means?’ Santana opens her mouth to speak, but still nothing will come out. Brittany keeps smiling. ‘It means I can do whatever I want. With whoever I want. And do you know who I want to do stuff with?’

Santana clears her throat just enough to ask ‘Who?’

She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t look around to see if anyone else is watching, maybe because she doesn’t care what they think, maybe because it doesn’t occur to her that anyone would have a problem with it – definitely because she just really wants to hurry up and do it – she leans in and kisses Santana gently on the cheek.

Santana is less brave. She can’t help looking around to see what the other people in the diner think, because she has experienced the negative reactions enough times to expect them, but here there aren’t any. Some people look up and whisper excitedly, but nobody shouts or throws anything or storms out. It’s nothing compared to the reaction Elvis got here at the weekend. She’s almost disappointed that nobody is getting up and dancing in celebration. Close to passing out, the only thing keeping her standing is Brittany’s hand holding hers, her fingertips freshly pink.

*

By Wednesday night, something has shifted at home, especially with Dad. Mom still does everything she’s supposed to do, but she barely looks at him. She serves him dinner, asks how his day was, nods politely, but it’s like she’s just going through the motions. When she talks to Blaine and Santana, she’s full of life: she laughs at their stories and gets excited for every tiny event of their day. She’s even asking about Brittany and Kurt with a coy glint in her eye, as if she knows what’s going on with them, and not only does she not seem upset – she seems excited. But that’s not what they’re focusing on right now.

Dad is staring at Mom, a smile tugging at his lips as she excitedly chatters away with the kids. Blaine tries to throw him a bone.

‘Anything interesting happen at work today, Dad?’

A rabbit in headlights, he clears his throat as he tries to come up with a contribution to the merriment. ‘No, nothing really.’

After dinner, they clean up as they’re used to doing by now. Dad stands in the middle of the room for a moment while Mom makes herself a tea. He looks around at the rest of the family, perfectly in sync, the kids splashing at each other and giggling, Mom sighing calmly as she stirs, and he simply mutters something about paperwork and disappears to his office. Mom barely notices. Blaine and Santana definitely notice. They wait for Mom to take her tea into the living room before they start a whispered argument.

‘Have we broken them?’

‘No!’ she hisses. ‘She is more free than she’s ever been. She’s not desperate for his approval, scared she’ll do the wrong thing in front of him-’

‘Yeah, she’s happier, I get that, but- what about him?’

‘What about him? If he wants things to be better, maybe he should try, I don’t know, doing something about it?’

Blaine sighs. ‘I know that. But everything with Mom, that didn’t just happen out of nowhere. We started helping and treating her nicely and it made her more confident, right? It’s not fair to expect him to just magically know the right things to do and say. Why shouldn’t we help him?’

‘He’s an adult.’

‘Things have only been changing here for a week. Everybody here thinks that these two streets are the entire world.’ She’s looking at the floor. ‘Listen… I don’t know when we’re getting out of here. I don’t even know what here is. But when we get back home, they might still be stuck back here, just the two of them, and I don’t want to leave them both miserable together.’

She frowns.

‘He should be able to figure out how to be nicer to his wife.’

She feels Blaine looking right through her. ‘Don’t take it out on him. This isn’t the same as home.’

Santana stares straight ahead for a moment. Blaine puts a hand on her wrist. ‘It’s okay, I can go up.’ She shakes her head.

‘No. I’ll go.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t think just yelling at him is going to work.’

‘Hey. I’m nice here, remember?’

Blaine knows he should probably argue, but hanging out with Mom just sounds like a nicer evening than another awkward talk with Dad.

He jumps when she clears her throat in the doorway to his office, flapping with his newspaper as he unsuccessfully tries to fold it up. ‘Santana, what are you doing up here?’

She shrugs. ‘I could ask you the same thing. You’re obviously not working. What, are you hiding from your own family?’

He stammers for a moment. ‘Well, I just- I don’t know, I mean, I really-’

He defensively reaches for the paper like it’ll shield him from her interrogation, but she grabs it first.

‘What?’

All he can do is stare at her. She takes a deep breath.

‘I think Mom would really like it if you spent some time with all of us. Or at least with her sometimes.’

His face loses a layer of hardness.

‘Do you really think so? Lately, I’ve just felt… in the way.’

This dynamic is all too familiar. She has to bite back a snappy comment.

‘You’re not in the way, Dad. You live here too. Just join in.’

‘I feel like I’m intruding. I don’t- I don’t know how.’

She feels something twist in her chest. Yeah, maybe he should be able to do this without her help, but he looks so utterly lost. She perches on the edge of his desk.

‘Well, maybe you could do something nice for Mom.’

‘Like what?’

‘A treat. Have a special evening together.’

‘I could cook dinner!’

‘Do you know how to cook?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, so maybe something else, but that’s a good start!’

They must keep talking for an hour. Eventually, he’s coming up with his own ideas for how to show his appreciation, how to try and make Mom happy, and Santana finds that once the ice is broken she almost enjoys his company. At one point she mentions Brittany and feels the room heat up, scared he’ll react badly, but he smiles.

‘You’ve been talking about Brittany a lot recently. Are you two dating?’

She looks into his eyes for signs of an impending explosion, but his smile seems honest.

‘Maybe. Almost. Would- would that be a problem?’

‘Why would that be a problem?’

‘Well, because-’ she shakes her head. ‘You know what? You’re right. No reason. Anyway, back to work - so I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow after school and we’ll put the plan into action, okay? You know what you need to do?’

‘I think so. Yes.’

‘What are you going to wear?’

‘I only have suits. And my gardening clothes.’

‘Suit it is.’

His face lights up. ‘Oh, I know! I could wear the cufflinks I wore on our wedding day!’

Santana never thought she would associate the word ‘cute’ with him, but right now, with his face lit up, it fits. He really does want to make Mom happy.

*

On Thursday, Dad is somehow even more hopeless. He can barely look at anyone out of fear he’ll give everything away. Santana realises he’s probably never had to keep a secret before.

Blaine is in no position to make fun of Dad’s awkwardness. He’s known since Santana got home on Tuesday that Kurt is single, and he’s done nothing about it except clam up around him while his pulse thuds in his ears. He knows it’s understandable that he’s scared to do anything about it. The past is notoriously bad for the gays. But Santana said that Mom and Dad seem to know there’s something between her and Brittany and don’t mind. And since Monday’s practice, the other guys can barely go five minutes without embracing each other.

In all honesty, he’s just nervous for the reason as any other high-schooler with a crush: he is a high-schooler with a crush. He can feel Kurt smiling at him in class but he finds something else to look at. He sees Kurt wave at him at lunch, but he just gives a polite nod and clears his throat a couple of times and feigns interest in the guys’ conversation.

It takes a few tries and a hard nudge in the ribs for Finn to get his attention.

‘Blaine!’

He flinches and blinks a couple of times. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘Go for it.’

‘No, not here. In private.’

Blaine shrugs and follows him out of the cafeteria and into a quiet corner of the hallway. ‘What’s up, Finn?’

Finn is frowning like he’s been trying to piece his thoughts together for a while.

‘I think I might have noticed something.’

This place really is changing.

‘Okay. What is it?’ He feels like he’s trying to decipher Lassie’s bark to find out where little Timmy has gotten lost this time. ‘Is everything okay?’

Finn pauses.

‘It’s about you.’ He knows Finn is a decent, friendly guy, but his heart still speeds up. ‘You and Kurt.’ It goes even faster.

‘Oh, um… what about me and Kurt?’ The wobble in his voice is inevitable, but still deeply humiliating.

‘Do you like him?’

Blaine hesitates. ‘Sure. We’re friends.’

Finn shakes his head. ‘Well, me and Puck are friends, but not the way you and Kurt are friends. Do you like him, like him? You stare at him like I stare at burgers. Your eyes go all glassy and everything. You should ask him on a date.’

Blaine swallows.

‘Seriously? That wouldn’t be a problem?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He’s not with Brittany anymore, and she definitely wouldn’t mind him dating somebody else.’

Blaine is reminded of the times in school when teachers have said something along the lines of ‘pretend you’re explaining this to an alien who doesn’t understand the first thing about it’. He knows he’s been doing this a lot recently, but it really hits home when it’s Finn.

‘I know, but- two boys dating. Would people mind?’

Finn shrugs. ‘Why would they? I mean, I’ve never seen a guy with a boyfriend before, but I’ve never seen tonnes of stuff. Honestly, I never notice much of anything, so there’s probably a lot of things I’ve seen without realising, but even I notice you two looking at each other. Go for it.’

There’s no denying it any more. He’s not scared of what people will think if he asks Kurt out. He’s scared that he will have to be vulnerable in front of the guy he likes. It’s not much better.

‘Thanks, Finn.’

‘No problem, buddy!’ Finn hugs him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Still better than a punch on the arm. He hugs back.

He can feel Finn’s eyes on him when they sit down with the others again. Blaine sits next to Kurt, who smiles at him – not as shy and awkward as Blaine expects, just open and warm. It sends sparks up Blaine’s spine. He knows if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll kick himself later. He checks that the others are distracted – Finn politely and pointedly gives a serious nod and looks away – but just as he gears himself up and opens his mouth to say something, Kurt takes his hand under the table.

‘Blaine, can we go on a date?’ Blaine freezes, not unlike Dad at the breakfast table this morning. He must look shocked, because Kurt starts to backtrack and tries to pull his hand away. ‘Sorry, do you not want- I didn’t mean-’

Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand. ‘No, no – I was just going to ask you the same thing. Yes, please, Kurt. I would love that. Is tomorrow okay?’

Kurt nods and grin is the biggest Blaine’s ever seen it.

*

‘I don’t get why the hell we have Geography twice a week when there’s only two places in the world. Do they think we’ll forget our way home somehow?’

The classroom is noisier than usual when they walk in on Friday morning. There are some splashes of colour around them. One boy is wearing tan slacks (Santana still can’t get her head round the idea that beige is radical here). A girl is sucking a bright red lollipop. Another has pale blue shoes. Blaine and Santana assume that’s the cause of the buzz in the air, until the lesson starts.

‘So, this morning, we’re going to look at-’

She pauses. They look up from where they’re doodling in their exercise books to see the teacher staring at the map at the front of the room.

‘Where’s Main Street?’

‘What are all those things?’

The map is wordless, just a series of lines and shapes, that the rest of the class doesn’t know is America.

‘I-’ the teacher stutters, ‘I don’t understand. What’s this? Where’s Lima? Where are we?’

‘We’re in Ohio.’ Everyone looks at Kurt when he pipes up. ‘It’s in America, and Lima’s just a part of it. And so is New York. Blaine told me.’

The heads turn to Blaine this time. Oh, shit. Kurt definitely didn’t brush off his previous slip. ‘Well, I don’t know… I’m not an expert.’

They all stay silent. The teacher looks at him desperately for answers. He looks to Santana, who shrugs.

‘Screw it. Tell them.’

They keep staring, as if to say, ‘Tell us what?’ Blaine takes a deep breath and walks to the front of the class.

‘Right. This whole thing is America,’ he points to one of the tiny patches on the map, ‘and this part is Ohio. That’s where Lima is. And all these other pieces of the puzzle, they’re all different states which make up the whole country. Like this part here, this is New York, like in that book.’ He looks at Kurt, who is staring at the map, utterly enthralled.

‘How do you know all of this?’ the teacher asks. Blaine shrugs.

‘I used to go to a different school. We learned it there.’

They all turn to Santana. It’s like watching the crowd of a wonky tennis match.

‘Yeah. It’s all true.’

Mercedes is the first to gasp as the map at the front, the diagrams on the walls, the whole classroom fills with colour. Each state on the map is labelled. The posters which used to explain the differences between Main and Elm now illustrate rivers, the urban and rural areas, the different groups of people in America. It’s all real information and it’s the most they’ve ever had access to. The teacher doesn’t even try to calm the class down – she’s the most excited one there. She runs over to one particular poster on the wall, of a large blue and green oval.

‘What – what’s this?’

‘Oh, that? That, uh, that’s…’ he glances at Santana for reassurance again, and she nods, smiling, ‘that’s the world.’

*

After fielding what feels like endless questions, Blaine and Santana make excuses and manage to escape to the back of the football field.

‘We’ve really fucked it, haven’t we?’

He nods. ‘Yep.’

They both look a little mischievous.

‘Wanna keep going?’

He nods harder. ‘Yes please.’

‘He remembered what you said.’

Blaine can’t wipe the grin off his face. ‘Yes, he did.’

*

When they leave school, the street looks the same at first. The grass out front is still grey. The same stores are selling the same things. It’s not until they get to the end of the street that they notice the difference: the space is full of people looking lost and excited, and suddenly nobody knows where to go. The simplicity of two streets is gone – everyone is standing staring around themselves at an intersection. There are new streets. New stores. An Italian restaurant. A fountain in the middle, surrounded by flowerbeds. Blaine overhears a man who can’t be less than fifty years old ask ‘How do I get home?’

A bunch of kids from school immediately turn to Blaine and Santana to ask what’s happening, where to go, but they don’t have any answers. All anyone can do is wander aimlessly, figuring out their new surroundings for themselves. This town has never seen so much independent thought. But Santana and Blaine have work to do.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind helping me set up? If you want more time to get ready, I can handle it on my own.’

‘Hey, I made you talk to Dad, that’s what got you stuck with this job in the first place. I’m not picking him up until five-thirty.’

‘Where are you taking him?’

‘God, I have no idea. Obviously, the diner’s not an option.’

‘Not just because of our thing. It’s also where he broke up with Brittany, not to mention boring as hell for someone as interesting as Kurt.’

‘I know. I want it to be some big surprise, something special, but I think we’ve raised the bar for special today. And God, he is interesting, isn’t he?’

‘His taste in boys definitely is.’

Just as he’s rolling his eyes, Santana grabs his wrist.

‘What?’ He looks around himself. ‘Oh.’

‘I think you have your date spot.’

‘I think this is the first time I’ve ever been grateful for a Geography lesson.’

*

They end up spending over two hours getting the diner ready. If she still had the ability to be surprised here, Santana would’ve been shocked that her boss didn’t mind closing for the evening, but when he nodded and said ‘absolutely!’ she didn’t even blink.

‘B, I’m telling you, just go. It’ll be fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

She marches him to the door. ‘I’m sure that you’re a big baby who’s scared to take the boy he likes out on a date even though he knows that the boy in question likes him back.’ He stares at her, the façade dropping.

‘You really think so?’

Her instinct is to tease him, having never seen him this nervous before, but it just seems too mean. Meanness is getting less fun every day.

‘I think he’d be crazy not to.’

He takes a deep breath and nods. ‘Thanks. Hope tonight goes okay.’

‘Good luck, loverboy.’

She checks her watch and realises it’s time to go.

*

Mom is wary when they first leave the house. She normally only goes out to meet friends for coffee or to shop for groceries, and never later than 5.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Don’t worry, Mom, I promise you’ll like it.’

Mom doesn’t look convinced, but she does as she’s asked. She found it weird enough that she didn’t have to cook dinner this evening, so she’s resigned herself to the strangeness.

‘Santana, do things seem… different to you?’

Santana looks around at the entirely new street they are walking down. Mom’s frowning, having barely noticed.

‘What do you mean?’

Mom stops walking. ‘Well, at home. The last week it’s like everything’s changed.’

‘In a good way?’

‘Sometimes. Spending more time with you and your brother has been wonderful. And I feel like you and I – we seem to understand each other better than we ever used to. I know I thought that you having your job was- I didn’t know why you wanted to work. But I think I do now.’ Santana wants to hug her, but she can sense there’s more coming, so she holds back. ‘And then there’s your father.’

‘What about him?’

‘When I was a little girl, my mother did everything I do now. She cooked and cleaned and never had a life of her own, and I thought that was good, I thought it was what women had to do, but now it just seems… empty. And your father – I can’t imagine him ever changing anything. Or letting me change.’

Santana takes Mom’s hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘I think you’d be surprised what he would do for you.’

Mom squeezes back. ‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s get to wherever you’re taking me.’ She tries to keep walking, but Santana is firmly planted on the spot.

‘It does matter, Mom. What you want is important, okay? Promise me you’ll remember that when- well, in the future.’

Mom frowns at her, alarmed at the sudden serious tone. She considers Santana’s plea for a moment, as if she needs to show that she’s really taken it in. ‘Yes, darling. I promise.’

Santana wraps her arms around Mom’s shoulders.

‘Love you, Mom.’

‘I love you too, sweetheart.’

Santana takes a moment to breathe in her scent, not unlike her own mother’s, the sweet, familiar smell she’s tried so hard not to miss, until she remembers Dad will be waiting.

‘Right, come on. We’re almost there.’

The diner is in sight. ‘The diner?’ Santana nods, smiling. ‘Why?’

‘Wait and see.’

They walk in, and the usual Friday night bustle has been replaced by gentle music and one man sitting at a candle-lit table. He gets up, not knowing what to do with himself until Santana puts Mom’s hand into his.

‘Hello, dear.’

Mom looks around at the decorations Blaine and Santana put up earlier, streamers, balloons, flowers everywhere but the biggest bunch waiting for her.

‘My goodness, what’s all this for?’

Dad looks to Santana, but she nods for him to answer.

‘Oh, um… for you.’

Santana’s boss cooked and left so the diner could be as quiet as possible. As he’s been desperate to make something more exciting than burgers recently thanks to the availability of fancier recipe books, she serves them a veritable feast and leaves them to talk properly. However, that doesn’t mean she can’t eavesdrop a little.

‘Oh, these potatoes are delicious, so creamy – have you tried them?’ She nods at the dauphinois on his plate.

He nods. ‘Very good. And the steak is perfect. How’s your fish?’

‘Lovely.’ She takes another bite of salmon and watches her husband for a moment. Eventually, he notices and stops eating to meet her eyes.

‘Everything okay?’

She smiles softly. ‘Yes. All of this is so sweet of you.’

‘The kids helped. Santana helped me think of it all.’

‘Did she tell you to wear your wedding cufflinks?’

His skin darkens for a moment and he looks down at his plate. ‘No. They were my idea. And I see you’re wearing the green earrings.’ Her faces goes still for a moment, until he adds, ‘They’re perfect. You’re perfect. I’m sorry I told you not to wear them.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’m serious. I’ve noticed something changing in you recently, and there’s something so amazing about it, as if you have this new-found confidence. I know it’s a good thing, but deep down, I- I’m worried you’re going to outgrow me. I don’t know how to change the way you’re changing, and pretty soon you’re going to see that you’re too good for me, and I got scared.’

‘Oh, darling-’

‘But I- I don’t think I’m scared any more. I don’t want to stop you. I want to grow with you. Well, I want to try.’

Mom sniffs a little. ‘That’s what I want, too.’

‘I know I’ve forgotten to show it lately. But I love you as much now as I did on our wedding day. And I don’t know the best way to show you or to help you do whatever you want to do, but you name it and I’m there.’

Mom holds his hand over the table.

‘I love you, too. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but I’m excited.’

‘So am I.’

‘Oh!’ she looks at his chest. ‘Darling, your tie!’

It’s the same deep emerald as her earrings. He jumps when he sees it, but laughs as well. ‘Well, maybe I’m not an old stick in the mud, after all!’ He rises and steps away from the table, extending his hand to his wife.

‘Shall we?’

She makes an excited little noise, and Santana subtly turns the music up. She watches from behind the counter as they sway slowly together, eyes closed. Their dessert can wait for a while. Part of her had been worried about this; as much as she wanted this evening to go well for both of their sakes, the thought of seeing her pretend parents happy together hurt. She can’t imagine seeing this back home, but now that she sees it here, she knows that’s not what she wants. Of course, she misses her mother, she’s only human, but even if she came back now and begged for forgiveness, Santana wouldn’t give it to her. She realises that there’s no point looking for meaning in this that she can apply to home; this isn’t a movie. She simply sighs and smiles as Mom and Dad dance, with their matching accessories, Dad beaming with pride that he’s done something right for once.

Santana tells them to go home ahead of her so she can lock up, but it’s really so they can keep their evening going just the two of them. Dad hesitates for a moment. The journey from his office to the diner hadn’t changed earlier, but now their route home has. He’s reluctant to keep walking.

‘You know, maybe we should wait for Santana.’

Mom holds her hand out. ‘We can figure it out. It’ll be an adventure.’

He smiles in wonder. ‘You’re my favourite person.’

‘I know. Come on.’

*

Kurt’s father answers the door when Blaine rings the bell.

‘Hey, Blaine,’ he says and they shake hands, ‘so you and Kurt are going on a date, huh?’ Blaine is a little dumbfounded. Kurt’s only just found out that being gay is possible and he’s already come out to his parents. Blaine’s known his whole life and he still hasn’t managed it.

‘Yes, sir.’

Burt chuckles. ‘I don’t know if sir is necessary. He’s very excited, though, so you better have something special planned.’

He can’t help smiling. ‘I- I think so. I’ll make sure we’re not out too late.’

‘Well, there’s no school tomorrow, so don’t worry too much about that. Just make sure you don’t get lost with all this new stuff everywhere.’

Just as Blaine is nodding at Mr Hummel, sensing how much this man’s approval means, Kurt skips past him, wearing the yellow cardigan from last week. He immediately slips his hand into Blaine’s, and Blaine has to remind himself that he doesn’t have to pull away.

They walk together, Kurt chatting away about the new places he saw on his way home from school, the colour televisions he saw in a store window, the other colours he wishes he could see, how much more fun his clothes would be if they had more colour. Blaine chips in when he can, but most of the time he’s just too nervous. He’s experienced in a lot of ways, but this is the first time he’s been on a real date. He tries to steady his breathing, focusing on the feeling of Kurt’s hand squeezing his, and it seems a little less scary.

When they arrive at the spot he and Santana found earlier, Kurt gasps.

Grass stretches out way in front of them, and there’s a lake in the centre, with silvery blossom trees dotted around them, petals drifting down the ground. Even in black and white, it’s beautiful, and all Blaine wants to look at is the boy next to him.

‘Oh, Blaine. It’s so pretty.’ Blaine walks them over to the lake and out onto the narrow deck, laying down a blanket and setting down the basket of food he brought, and he removes his shoes and socks. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just putting my feet in the water. It’ll feel good.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I don’t think there are sharks in here. Or if there are, they’re probably very friendly vegetarian sharks.’

Kurt bites his lip for a moment before copying Blaine, sitting next to him so they can take their first dip into the water at the same time. When he feels the first cool splash against his skin, he grabs Blaine’s arm and grins at him like they’re mischievous little kids.

‘It feels… good.’ He looks down at his toes and wiggles them, spreading ripples across the water. He leans into Blaine’s side, letting out a long sigh, and Blaine settles a hand on the small of his back. Taking care not to disturb Kurt, he reaches for the basket and produces a little box of cherries, placing it between the two of them. Kurt picks one up by the stalk, slowly twirling it between his fingers so he can admire the deep red shine. ‘Gosh,’ he breathes.

‘I thought you might like them.’

Kurt pops the fruit into his mouth, closing his eyes to savour the sweet juices bursting over his tongue. He hums to himself in satisfaction, and Blaine feels his stomach flutter at the sound.

‘Blaine?’

‘Mm-hmm?’ he passes Kurt a paper bag for the stone and stalk and Kurt pops both in.

‘What’s it like where you’re from?’

Blaine has been expecting this question for a few days. Kurt is more curious than anyone else about what’s outside of this place.

‘Well, in a lot of ways, it’s similar. We go to school, and have families and friends. And people go on dates.’

‘And it doesn’t have to be boys and girls on dates?’

‘Nope. And that’s how it is here now, I guess. But it’s different in other ways.’

‘Good different?’

Blaine has to think for a moment. He knows there are lots of good things about his reality – the technology is incredible, everyone can work and vote and marry who they want, but there’s a lot that he doesn’t want to go back to. He knows that this version of the past isn’t real, that this isn’t how it really went, and that back home he gets to benefit from the hard work done by generations before him, but he doesn’t miss Grindr, or the version of ‘liberation’ he always convinced himself he liked. He doesn’t miss how lonely he felt before they came here. Even though Blaine is aware that the bigger picture there is better than living in the real 50s, he can’t ignore the fact that he’s never felt peace quite like this before.

‘Good sometimes. There are lots of gay people – people like us – and they get to be themselves, but it makes some people mad. We- well, people have had to fight to be accepted. So it’s different, and for a lot of people it’s great, but for some people it’s sad, and it’s meant a lot of struggle and pain.’

Kurt thinks about this for a moment. ‘Gay.’ He says it a couple more times, letting the word roll around his mouth. ‘I like that.’

Blaine smiles. ‘Good.’

‘People really had to fight for things to be fair? Just because of who they wanted to hold hands with?’ Blaine nods. They both look out over the water. ‘Wow. Those people must have been really strong.’

‘They were. They are. But we’re kind of part of that now. I mean, it’s been easier, but you were brave enough to be different to other people. That takes strength too.’

‘I couldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for you.’

They look at each other. Blaine brushes a strand of hair back from Kurt’s face.

‘I think you’d be surprised at what you’re capable of.’ Kurt suddenly hops up, takes off his cardigan and starts unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Wait, what are you doing?’

‘Doesn’t it seem like a waste of a brand-new lake if we don’t get in?’

Taken aback by this new-found forwardness, Blaine follows Kurt’s lead, and they both strip down to their underwear; Kurt dives in, and this time Blaine is the one to ease himself in tentatively. Every other time he’s been this close to naked with a guy it hasn’t ended well. He just doesn’t know how to do this when it’s Kurt. Any of his usual moves, mostly copied from bad pornography, would just seem so stupid now. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s perfectly happy just talking and eating cherries and being close to him. They swim up and down the length of the lake together, stopping to splash each other every now and then, then simply lie on their backs, letting the water hold them up. Looking up at the sky, their hands still find each other, fingertips gently grazing in the water.

After a while, they drift back to the deck, each leaning on the wood with one elbow so they can face each other.

‘So, what else do boys do where you come from?’

Blaine almost says ‘the same as boys and girls do’, but then he remembers that they don’t do much here either. ‘Well,’ he starts, ‘they hold hands, just like this,’ he links his fingers tightly with Kurt’s. He moves away from the edge so that Kurt is standing between him and the deck. ‘And they get close, like this.’

Kurt’s breathing falters a little, and Blaine’s close enough to hear it, to feel the heat on his skin as Kurt’s eyes stare deeply into his.

‘There’s a lot boys can do. Touching. Kissing. Other things.’

‘Have you done other things?’ Considering how this is making him feel, with no more contact than their fingers locked together, he feels like he could in total honesty say no, that’s he’s never truly been touched by anyone else in his whole life, but he nods. ‘Does it feel good?’

Blaine’s mind flashes with various encounters he’s had over the last year. There aren’t many honest answers that wouldn’t make Kurt anxious.

‘It’s supposed to.’

Kurt’s expression creases with new concern. ‘Are you okay?’

Blaine steps a little closer, so that their bodies are touching, so intimate it makes him ache, and he nods again. ‘I am now.’

Kurt leans forward to rest his forehead against Blaine’s and hold him close. The connection and safety is like nothing Blaine’s ever felt before.

For a few moments they stay still like that, nobody around to disturb them but the occasional sound of water lapping at their limbs, no more questions, no thinking about anyone else: just skin, just breathing, just peace.

But after a while, Kurt runs his hands up and down Blaine’s arms. ‘Blaine, you’re freezing. We should get you dry.’

Blaine wouldn’t mind freezing into a block of ice forever if it was like this, but the sensible part of his brain agrees that he should probably get out.

They use the blanket as a makeshift towel to dry off, drag their clothes back on, and go to sit on the grass, still warm in the evening sun. Kurt drapes his cardigan over Blaine’s shoulders.

‘Something strange is happening with you isn’t it?’

‘What?’

Kurt pauses before continuing. ‘I know nobody else has realised, but you’re not the same Blaine that lived here before. Same goes for Santana. Something happened to you last week, didn’t it?’

Blaine stays quiet.

‘I’m not mad or anything. You don’t have to explain it to me.’

‘I wish I knew how.’

‘It doesn’t matter. All I know is I’m a lot happier now than I was last week. And it’s because of you.’

Blaine smiles, but can’t hide the chattering of his teeth.

‘I’m happier too. You have no idea.’

‘Gosh, you’re like an icicle. Here,’ he pulls Blaine close, stroking through his hair and Blaine snuggles in, clenching his hands close together. The calm of the evening and the warm breeze enveloping them are soporific, and they end up lying on the grass, Blaine’s head resting on Kurt’s chest. He can’t remember the last time he felt so looked after.

Blaine wakes up to hear Kurt’s voice, trying not to shout but still determined to wake him.

‘Blaine, Blaine! Look!’

Blaine rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times. When he finally sees, he has to blink again to make sure he’s not imagining things. It’s unmistakable. The two boys are dusted with pink petals. He looks up and all around them the trees are full of the pink – some dark and vibrant, some pale and delicate, all stunning in the last dregs of sunlight.

‘Did we do this?’ Blaine asks.

‘I think so. Isn’t it incredible?’

Blaine picks up a petal, placing it in his palm and stroking it with his thumb. ‘Yeah. Incredible.’

He leans into Kurt again, and they make their way through the rest of Blaine’s supplies – strawberries, grapes, blueberry muffins, and they both marvel at each burst of colour. Blaine feeds a grape to Kurt and feels a thrill when Kurt’s lips brush against his fingers for half a second. He wants more than anything to kiss him, but for all his worldliness compared to everyone else here, he’s just a terrified boy who doesn’t want to risk screwing up this perfect moment. Besides, he’s happy with this.

Kurt insists on walking Blaine home so he can get warmed up as soon as possible, even though he’s not feeling cold anymore. Blaine invites Kurt in, discovering that it doesn’t matter how much sexual knowledge a person has; ‘my parents aren’t home’ will always be code for something exciting. Kurt is only too happy to accept the offer. They go up to Blaine’s room, and he changes into dry clothes, enjoying that despite having been pressed so close together earlier, Kurt is still obviously a little flustered to catch a few glimpses of Blaine undressing, even though he’s mostly facing the opposite direction. He puts on a grey sweater, as none of his clothes are in colour yet, and sits with Kurt on the bed. All evening and the whole way home they’ve been so relaxed around each other, but now every movement is full of tension. Kurt reaches out to put his hand over Blaine’s, and Blaine feels his breath hitching at the touch, and it makes him laugh. Kurt lets out a giggle, too. Blaine shuffles a little closer to him.

Just as they’re leaning in closer, almost close enough for their lips to touch, they hear clattering downstairs and jump apart.

‘Blaine, are you home? I think Mom and Dad might have gotten lost on the way home, or they’re sucking face on some park bench. Or both. How was the big date? I want to see how many hickeys you’ve got.’

Kurt’s cheeks flush bright red for a moment before returning to grey. ‘I think I should get home.’

‘You don’t have to-’

‘No, I know, but… I think that might’ve been good timing.’

Santana calls up again. ‘Blaine? Come on, dummy, I need to talk to someone normal.’

Kurt scrambles off the bed to go downstairs and Blaine follows him. Santana’s mouth falls open when she sees them both looking wet and rumpled and Blaine in different clothes from earlier.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kurt, you don’t have to go because of me-’ she rambles, but he’s heading straight for the door. ‘Blaine, I didn’t mean to-’

‘Please shut up, Santana,’ Blaine says, following Kurt. ‘Kurt, you really don’t have to leave.’

She covers her face, hoping if she hides hard enough, she’ll disappear from this moment altogether.

Kurt stops out on the porch, his face burning. Blaine comes out to meet him and closes the door behind him so they can’t be disturbed again. He pauses in hesitation before taking Kurt’s hand, and he’s relieved when it isn’t pulled away. Kurt turns to face him.

‘I’m so sorry about her. I bet she wasn’t like that last week, huh?’

Kurt laughs a little, bringing his gaze up from his feet to meet Blaine’s eyes.

‘It’s okay. Honestly, I don’t know why I- I guess I’m not used to feeling all of this, and I got caught up and it just got so intense, and… look, Blaine, I know you’ve done all this before, and maybe I’m being silly, but is it okay if we wait? I know we almost- and I really want to, but-’

Kurt can hardly even say the word ‘kiss’; he’s probably right to think he might not be ready for it. Blaine suddenly feels very cold again, his stomach dropping into his feet. ‘Of course. Listen, Kurt, if I pushed too far at all I’m so sorry-’

‘No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been a perfect gentleman all evening, and I’ve had the most amazing time. I just don’t want to rush anything.’

‘We don’t have to do a single thing that you’re not comfortable with. Are you alright? We can just sit and talk for a minute if you want. I’m sure my sister won’t mind chaperoning.’

‘No, I think I need some air. I’ll just walk home and get some sleep.’

‘Sure, no problem. Well, if you want to talk or do anything over the weekend, you know where to find me.’

Kurt’s smile is almost back to normal. He nods. ‘I think so. Might get lost on the way, but I’m pretty sure I can get here again.’

Blaine takes Kurt’s other hand, and they lean their heads together again. ‘Kurt, I know you think I’ve done all of this before, but I promise – what’s happening here is completely new to me too.’

Kurt smirks a little, and it’s strangely hot.

‘Nobody’s ever turned you down before, huh? Bruised ego?’

Blaine laughs. ‘Exactly.’

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine and holds him close for a moment. When he pulls back, he stops and looks at Blaine’s face for a moment. Blaine is surprised that it doesn’t make him feel self-conscious.

‘Blaine?’

‘Yes?’

Kurt looks a little nervous but still somehow determined. ‘Would it be okay if I maybe… can you be my boyfriend?’

Blaine swallows and nods quickly. ‘Yes, yes please, I’d like that a lot.’ How is this guy getting so brave so quickly?

They both heave a sigh of relief. ‘Okay then. I’m gonna… yeah. Home.’

‘You’re sure I can’t walk you?’

‘Then I’d have to walk you back, and we’d just keep walking back and forth forever.’

‘I can think of worse ways to spend eternity.’

‘That’s cheesy even for this town.’ Before Blaine can garble out another awkward apology, Kurt leans forward and presses a single, deliberate kiss to his cheek, making Blaine suddenly light-headed. ‘Thanks again for tonight, Blaine. I promise, you didn’t push me or anything. We’re good. I’ll maybe see you tomorrow?’

‘I hope so. Boyfriend.’

Kurt giggles and blushes again, the pink dissolving quickly back into grey.

‘Goodnight. Boyfriend.’

Their hands squeeze one last time before they let go, and Kurt turns to walk home. Blaine stays on the porch until he’s out of sight, a smile plastered over his face.

When he gets back inside, Santana is waiting with a cup of tea looking incredibly sorry.

‘I am incredibly sorry. I hope I didn’t screw anything up. Are you okay? I made you this.’ She hands him the cup, and he silently walks to the living room and sits on the couch. ‘Blaine, it was an accident; I thought you would be alone. Well, I actually thought you would still be out. I was kind of looking forward to some quiet time. If anything you owe me an apology for getting in my way.’

He calmly sips his tea.

‘It’s okay, Santana.’

‘Is that the kind of “okay” that actually means “I’m really pissed at you Santana” or is it the world’s first ever genuinely good “okay”?’

He stares into the cup in his hands, a grin appearing on his face.

‘Good. Like, really good.’

She gasps. ‘Oh, don’t scare me like that! Okay, I want details, what did you do, where did you go, did you kiss your gay little faces off?’ He shakes his head. ‘Seriously? Because that’s a post-orgasm face if I’ve ever seen one.’

‘Tana, he asked me to be his boyfriend.’

She squeals. ‘Are you serious? My baby brother has got his first ever boyfriend!’ She puts on a mock-tearful voice. ‘I have never been so proud of you. Oh my god, we should throw the world’s tiniest pride parade. Just you and me and Kurt and Brittany. Although rainbow flags might be hard to find here.’ He laughs. ‘Really, though, B, that’s so great. I’m so happy for you. But how come no smooching?’

He shrugs. ‘Kurt told me he didn’t feel ready, and I didn’t want to push him.’

‘You’ve never been ready for sexual contact your whole life. Doesn’t usually stop you.’

‘Yeah, and it makes me feel like garbage. I’d rather have endless nights like tonight with nothing sexual than make the guy I love feel that way.’

Any lingering hint of teasing disappears from her face. ‘The guy you what?’

‘Oh. I said… I said love, didn’t I?’ She nods. ‘Huh.’

Santana notices that he isn’t in a rush to take it back, but that he also clearly needs some time to process this new information. Poor thing’s had a long day.

‘Anyway, enough about you. I can’t believe you haven’t asked me how my evening was.’

Blaine’s still in a bit of a stupor, but he manages to stammer out, ‘Oh, of course – how’d it go?’

‘Nauseatingly well. It was so cute. They danced and laughed and talked everything through, and Dad’s tie even turned green to match Mom’s earrings. I wouldn’t be surprised if they get a double bed one of these days. Good thing we should be getting out of here in a week, if you know what I mean.’

That’s enough to snap Blaine out of his trance.

‘What?’

‘Well, if our theories are correct, the Big Game should be it, right? That’s what we want, remember, Blaine? To go home to our families? Our real people?’

Blaine’s heart sinks. ‘Right. That’s what we want.’ It stings for to even imply that this Kurt isn’t real. Tonight felt real. ‘Home.’

Santana has never wanted to kick herself so much. She can’t do anything right tonight. But then she spots something in Blaine’s hair and reaches up to pick it out.

‘What’s this?’

Blaine takes the small, pink petal from her hand, examining it closely between his own fingertips.

‘Oh, that. It’s nothing. Look, I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I’m sorry, Blaine.’

‘Yeah. It’s fine. Goodnight.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update has taken forever. The world's on fire and it's made it hard to focus. Hope everyone is staying safe and well and excited to leave lots of reviews :)


	7. Chapter 7

The two girls spend Saturday morning lying in the grass together, holding hands, Brittany occasionally weaving a flower into Santana’s hair. Brittany had knocked on the door early - word had somehow got out that there was a park with pink blossoms and she was hopping from one foot to the other, hoping Santana would go there with her. Now she’s sitting behind Santana, carefully braiding a daisy chain into her hair.

Every time Santana thinks she can’t be surprised any more in this place, something comes along and knocks her out.

‘So how are you going to keep changing things?’

Santana tries to flick her head round to face Brittany, but doesn’t want to disturb the floral arrangement developing on her crown.

‘What?’

‘You know. You’ve changed a bunch of stuff. You made the town bigger. Kurt and Blaine made the trees pink. What’s next?’

‘It doesn’t work like that.’

‘Oh. How does it work?’

‘I have no idea.’

Some people might giggle at that, but it just makes Brittany concentrate harder.

‘I wish I could be in colour. I didn’t realise how boring grey was until I saw the other colours, and now I just wanna paint myself all over so I’m not like this any more.’

Santana has to turn around at that. She cups Brittany’s cheek. ‘Listen to me, Britt. You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen. I know you are perfect in colour, but you’re perfect like this too. Even if you never go any further than these,’ she taps Brittany’s pink nails like piano keys, ‘you are beautiful. Okay?’

Brittany nods solemnly, determined to show Santana that she knows she’s serious and she believes her, before leaning in to kiss her. Not on the cheek this time, but properly, slowly, gentle but firm, on the lips.

A few people around them sneak a glance, but there’s no malice in it. Their eyes light up at the thought of doing the same. But for once, Santana doesn’t even consider what anyone else might think. All that matters is the warmth of Brittany’s waist under her palm and the soft lips against hers. It takes her a moment to open her eyes again after they part, but when she does, she sees rosy cheeks, tiny brown freckles, blue eyes, and blonde hair. She sees a mint green sweater and a powder blue skirt.

She’s only concerned to see a frown, too.

‘Wait.’

‘Wait what?’

‘You said “I know”. Like, present tense “I know”. How do you know what I would look like in colour?’

Grateful that she doesn’t have to explain more, Santana reaches into her purse for her compact, opening it and showing Brittany, who grabs the mirror and gasps. ‘Look at me!’

Santana laughs. ‘Believe me, I’m looking.’

Brittany squeals and throws her arms around her, both of them ending up in a heap on the ground, daisies scattered around them.

-

Blaine knows he should really focus on figuring out the layout of the new streets and buildings so he can get back home, but he’s far too busy admiring Kurt’s excitement over all of it.

He had been more tentative than usual this morning when he knocked on Kurt’s door. After last night, he was determined to make sure he didn’t push Kurt or make him feel obligated to do anything more than he was comfortable with, even rehearsing offering Kurt his hand in a way that said ‘but you don’t have to hold it if you don’t want to’. But the door flew open, and Kurt had leapt at him, held him close for a few seconds, then grabbed his hand and practically started skipping into town.

They walk past a few different stores – one with colour TVs in the window, which they both stop to stare at – but there are two that Kurt simply needs to go into.

‘Blaine, look at all of these! I’ve never seen anything like it!’

There are endless bolts of fabric lining the walls of the store, different colours, textures, and patterns, and Kurt has to touch each one, relishing the feel of it between his fingers, occasionally holding it up against his own clothes, and Blaine can see him formulating combinations and outfits. Like Kurt back home, he’s already a hell of a dresser despite his limited options. He’s practically drooling over the deep violets, burnt oranges, linen, velvet, wool – he would probably move in here if he could.

They’re in there for at least half an hour, but Blaine ushers him out before he can buy everything in there.

‘You’re right. I should plan first. Do you think I could actually make something? Maybe even my own clothes?’

‘Kurt, I know you could do anything.’

He silently berates himself for how nervous he gets, but he steels himself and leans in to kiss Kurt’s cheek. He figures as Kurt did the same last night, he’s probably comfortable with it, and if the way he leans into Blaine’s touch is any indication, he is more than comfortable. His cheeks heat up, and his coy smile is enough to make Blaine’s insides fizz.

‘Okay. I’ll need more supplies before I can do anything. Let’s keep looking around.’

They find a craft shop, and it’s just as exciting. Just as many colours, but this time there are paints, chalks, pens, and Kurt immediately buys a sketchpad and set of pencils. Next, they go to an ice cream parlour, possibly Blaine’s favourite of all the new places, and they share a sundae which Kurt all but ignores as he frantically scribbles ideas for what he could make, from pants and sweaters to new basketball uniforms (‘I know we already have uniforms, Blaine, but wouldn’t we be a better team if we were all in bright red?’). By the time Blaine has demolished more than his fair share of the ice cream, Kurt has drawn two figures in beautiful suits, one teal and one dark pink, and they’re holding hands.

‘Is that us?’

Kurt jumps, yanked out of his daydream.

‘Oh, I- yes. Sorry.’

Blaine covers Kurt’s hand with his.

‘Don’t be. They look good.’

Kurt lets the excitement spread over his features.

‘Imagine it. You and me just walking down the street together wearing suits that I can make.’ Blaine wilfully ignores the heaviness settling in his stomach. ‘Maybe not just the streets here. We could go to one of the new places. We could go to New York, just like the book.’ He must notice Blaine’s face fall just a little, because he adds, ‘I mean, not exactly like the book. I just mean going to a city.’ He pauses, frowning at Blaine. ‘What is it? Have I said something wrong?’

Blaine shakes his head.

‘No, of course not. That sounds so lovely, but I- I don’t know if-’

That’s when it clicks.

‘Oh.’ He puts his pencil down. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. You’re going back.’

‘I think so. We need to. Santana has people back home who need her, and I- I had a life there. Even if I didn’t like it very much.’ Kurt looks crestfallen, and Blaine fumbles, no idea how to make it better. ‘Maybe I don’t have to leave.’

He sees Kurt arguing with himself, knowing he could ask Blaine to stay and it would probably work, but he’s better than that.

‘Blaine.’

‘It’s not like anyone needs me there.’

‘Somebody will.’ Blaine shrugs, looking at the ice cream dish and making patterns in the remains with his spoon. ‘Blaine, I know how much I’m going to miss you, and I’ve only had you here for a week. There are people who have known you much longer, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to try and keep you away from them.’ Blaine hesitantly drags his eyes up to see Kurt looking infuriatingly understanding. Their fingers link together over the table without either one even noticing.

‘And there was a Blaine here before me, right? Maybe he’ll come back. I’m sure you can get him up to speed.’

Kurt smiles, unable to hide a hint of sadness.

‘Exactly. He was a lot less complicated. Still cute, though.’

Blaine laughs at that, and the tension leaves his shoulders. ‘Good.’

Kurt looks suddenly thoughtful again. ‘Hmm.’

‘What?’

‘Well, you never had to ask our names or anything. Did you already know us? Is there another Kurt where you come from?’

Blaine nods. ‘There is.’

‘Were you two dating?’

‘Definitely not. He can’t stand me. He thinks I’m crazy.’

Kurt laughs. ‘I think a few people here thought that for a while, too. We came around eventually.’ He shades in the background of the mini Kurt and Blaine he’s drawn, making the figures stand out. ‘So there could be two of these. We can be like this here and there.’

Blaine knows there’s no way Kurt back home would tolerate him after the way he spoke to him before, but Kurt’s optimism is infectious, even if they are both dancing around the real issue.

‘I was dreading having this conversation. I thought you’d be upset.’

Kurt takes a deep breath, putting his pencil away and closing the sketch book.

‘I’m trying to do the right thing. Please don’t think that means it doesn’t hurt.’ Blaine’s stomach clenches. Of course Kurt’s being the bigger man. They both know it won’t be the same, it’ll never be quite like this, but it’s what has to happen.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean-’ he shuts up for a second, simply taking both of Kurt’s hands in his. ‘Look, I’m still here now. I don’t know how, or when, or even if I’m leaving. We’ve got time. What do you want to do?’

Kurt softly runs his thumbs over Blaine’s fingers, mulling it over and glancing down at his sketchpad.

‘I want to fill every inch of this town with colour. And I want to spend as much time with you as possible.’

Blaine grins. ‘I think we can make that happen.’

They pack up Kurt’s supplies and keep exploring, eventually sitting in the town square and admiring the splashes of colour in the outfits walking past them. They share a paper bag of candy, all different shapes and colours and flavours, and Kurt holds each one up to the sunlight to see the sugary crystals sparkle before popping it into his mouth.

‘So do you have the same parents back home?’

Blaine shakes his head. ‘Actually, we both have different families.’

‘What? You mean Santana’s not really your sister?’

He remembers that in monochrome, their skin tones might not look as obviously different.

‘Nope.’

‘But you’re so close!’

Blaine pauses and smiles. ‘Yeah, we are. We’ve been best friends for a really long time, if not always for the right reasons.’ Kurt looks curious, but waits for Blaine to go on. ‘It doesn’t matter. Anyway, she really needs to get back for her little sister. She looks after her when her dad can’t cope.’

‘That must be hard.’

Blaine nods, sucking on something grape-flavoured. ‘Yeah. Since her mom left, she’s had to take care of everything.’

They’re quiet for a moment while Kurt takes this in. He’s never heard of mothers who leave or parents who can’t cope or teenagers with that much responsibility. He’s less sure about Blaine going back – his home doesn’t sound very nice.

‘What about you? What’s your family like?’

Considering how much he’s been avoiding them for so long, he’s tried not to think about them here. They’re the one reason any part of him really wants to go home.

‘It’s just my mom, dad and me at home. My big brother, Cooper, left home a few years ago to be an actor. Only commercials so far, but he’s got big ambitions.’

‘You must miss them.’

He nods. ‘So much it hurts. Do you know what’s weird?’ Kurt shakes his head, taking a strawberry sweet out of the bag and admiring it. ‘They don’t know I’m gay.’

Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder and speaks clumsily around the sweet in his mouth. ‘Why not? Are they the people that don’t like gay people?’

Blaine shrugs. ‘No. I don’t think so. I don’t know, I just – I don’t want them to treat me differently.’

‘For doing this?’ Kurt gestures to the bench they’re sitting on, legs crossed towards each other so their toes occasionally touch. He can picture his parents witnessing this; his mother would be jumping up and down with excitement, possibly clapping and squealing. His father would calm her down, give Blaine a smile and nod, and drag her away to give them some privacy.

Maybe he was never scared of how they would treat him. Maybe he was just ashamed of how he’d treated himself.

‘You’re right. I guess I’m just nervous.’ Kurt laughs, unable to picture Blaine nervous about anything. The sound is so pretty, and without thinking, he leans in to kiss Kurt’s temple. Kurt leans into the touch and rests his head on Blaine’s shoulder.

‘I hope you can tell them soon.’

Blaine knows just how hard it is for Kurt to say that, and how much his happiness must mean to him. He needs to return the favour.

‘So how can we get more colour around here?’

‘Do you know how it works?’

‘Well, Santana and I think that when something new happens, something goes into colour. Like your sweater when you were at my house.’ Kurt’s eyes are closed, soaking up the sun, and he smiles, a little ‘mmm’ of pleasure and agreement escaping him. ‘So we need to do as much new stuff as we can.’

Kurt looks up at Blaine. ‘Is that a hint?’

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean, we don’t have to-’

Kurt bursts out laughing, sitting up and putting his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. ‘Calm down. I know. But if we want the whole town in colour, it can’t just be us, right?’

‘I think Santana’s working on it with Brittany.’

‘Oh, I know. Brittany has no problem talking to me about it. I’m glad we’re still friends, but sometimes she tells me more about her feelings than I want to know.’ Blaine laughs.

‘You’re right, though. We need everyone to get involved. You know this place better than I do – what’s the best way to convince everyone?’

‘Blaine, we’re on the basketball team and we’re best friends with two cheerleaders. We’re the most influential people in the school.’

Blaine reaches up to grab the hand on his shoulder. ‘Okay. I think I might have some of a plan. We need to go back to the fabric store.’

*

Santana and Brittany come back to the house to find a note from Blaine: ‘Bring Brittany to Kurt’s house. DW, not getting them back together lol x’

‘Mom? Any idea what this is about?’

‘Afraid not, sweetheart, I just promised I’d give it to you. Can I get you girls some lemonade?’ That’s when she notices that Santana’s girlfriend looks a little different. ‘Oh, Brittany! You look wonderful!’

Brittany smiles and blushes for a moment, and Santana is almost too caught up staring at her dreamily to reply.

‘Oh, uh, no. It’s okay. This might be urgent.’

When they get there (Brittany knows the way, thank goodness), they are let in by a very excited Blaine, who grabs them both by the wrist and drags them in. At the dinning table, surrounded by offcuts and patterns and wonky patches, Kurt and his mother sit behind a sewing machine. She occasionally has to stand behind him to guide his hand and slow him down so his finger doesn’t get stitched to anything – ‘I refuse to waste perfectly good material by sewing it through my fingernail, Blaine!’ – but he’s already gained a lot of confidence in the last couple of hours.

‘What’s he making?’

‘He won’t tell me. But Mrs Hummel- sorry, Elizabeth, has given me a steady supply of cookies, so I’m not complaining.’

The woman next to Kurt smiles at the girls, radiating softness and warmth. Santana gets what Blaine has been saying. It’s weird knowing what Kurt is missing back home. Everything about Elizabeth says ‘come here, darling, let me make it all better’.

‘Brittany, when did you – you look amazing!’

She’s been getting glances and compliments all day, so she simply says ‘Yep’ and sits next to Kurt.

Blaine looks at Santana. ‘I would give my arm to be that self-assured.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I know, right?’

They all sit round the table, Mr Hummel coming in and out to ask if he can help with anything, only for Mrs Hummel to tell him with a smile that he’s good at a lot of things, but this requires much more delicate fingers. He accepts this, his smile matching hers, and bends to kiss her cheek and give Kurt a pat of encouragement which Kurt immediately reprimands him for because ‘That could cost me an arm!’

His determination is kind of a turn-on. Blaine only looks away to assess Santana’s state.

‘Do I even need to ask what made her change?’

Santana beams, nothing coy or unsure about it. ‘Nope. Lots of making out under a tonne of pink blossom – thanks for that, by the way. Looks like you two have had an… intense day.’

Blaine glances across the table to make sure Kurt, Elizabeth and Brittany are all utterly engrossed in Kurt’s creation before he starts to tell her everything.

‘It was a lot. We talked about… how we’re probably leaving soon.’

‘How did you explain that?’

‘It’s the weirdest thing – he just figures it all out before I even have to tell him. I don’t know how he does it. He just. Understands.’ She puts a hand on his arm. ‘Do we really have to go back?’

‘Blaine.’

‘I know, I know. But home sucks compared to this. We could be happy here.’

‘Home doesn’t suck. We make it suck. We have to learn how to make it better. How to be better at being there.’

He sighs. ‘I guess.’

‘Don’t get me wrong, B, leaving them is going to hurt.’ She allows herself a quick look at Brittany, excitedly pointing out the details of Kurt’s design, which she apparently isn’t banned from seeing. It must just be a surprise for Blaine, which almost makes it worse. ‘But believe it or not, there are people back home who will miss you like crazy if you don’t go back.’

He nods. ‘My parents.’

She shoves into his side. ‘Me, dummy.’

For a moment he looks at her, eyebrows raised in gentle surprise, before shoving her back. ‘Fine. I guess if my sister needs me-’

‘I never said need. Need was not on the table. I would… notice if you weren’t around. I don’t have any other friends.’

He laughs. ‘Fine. Anyway, we’ve kind of accepted that this is a weird and annoying situation, but at least we can spend time together while we’re still here.’

‘With his mother, your sister and his ex? I thought you’d have preferred time with your mouth on his mouth, but I guess it’s up to you.’

‘Well, this is all part of the other thing we want to do. Our to-do list is be together, and shake shit up. Not his words.’ She looks at him expectantly. ‘Colour everywhere before we leave this place. And we figured that the best way to do that is to get everybody in on it, to do new things and make changes and just see what happens. Come on, we talked about maps for five minutes and more town appeared out of nowhere. You and Brittany kissed and now she’s in colour. Imagine what we could do with a group effort.’

‘I swear, if you say _we’re all in this together_ , I will strangle you.’

He snorts. ‘Don’t even try and pretend you don’t love those movies. I’ve seen how angry you get when you talk about Ryan and Chad.’

She punches his arm to punctuate her rage. ‘They. Switch. Clothes. Blaine. And I’m supposed to believe Ryan Evans is trying to steal Gabriella? Like the way his dad straightens out his hats isn’t a metaphor for not accepting his queerness?’

He flinches away from her. ‘Ow! Why do you always hit me when we talk about this? Like I said last time, I agree with you completely. I’m just entertained by how much time you spend thinking about High School Musical in 2020.’

‘High School Musical 2.’

‘Of course. Please don’t punch me in the mouth.’

Just then, Brittany makes a squeaking noise and Kurt stares, wide-eyed, at his creation. Elizabeth gets him to stand up so she can help him put it on – it’s a dark magenta blazer, not unlike the one he drew earlier, in some kind of wool blend that none of them have ever seen before, with velvet trim on the lapels and cuffs. It’s not perfect, but for Kurt’s ambitious first attempt with minimal help from his mother, it’s stunning. And the glow emanating from Kurt when he wears it is priceless.

‘Oh, my – Kurt, you look gorgeous.’ Kurt bites his lip, turning from side to side to show his creation off.

‘Wait, honey, look at me for a second.’ He does as his mother asks. ‘Oh, gosh. Quick, take a look in the mirror.’ He walks to the big mirror on the wall, and claps both hands over his mouth. It’s not just the jacket. He spins as quickly as he can to look at Blaine, and that’s when he notices. Kurt’s eyes are this light, bright blue that Blaine doesn’t think he’s ever seen, even before coming here. Every fibre of his being is screaming out to kiss him, but he doesn’t want to do it for the first time in front of everyone else. He goes from awkward, awestruck staring to a hug, pulling him close at the waist. Kurt rests his chin on Blaine’s shoulder, and he breathes in the intimacy of the moment, forgetting anyone else is in the room.

But not for long.

‘So, what’s next?’ Brittany’s hands are clasped together as she waits for an answer. ‘This is step one, right?’

‘It’s kind… part of all the steps.’

‘That’s a very powerful blazer,’ says Santana.

‘It’s not just the blazer,’ Blaine cuts her off, ‘we want to get everyone excited. We figured if they see that they can choose to change it up, it might get them all interested.’

‘So Kurt wearing pink is the key to the liberation of all the teens in this town?’

‘And adults, thank you,’ Elizabeth adds.

Kurt shrugs. ‘It might be a start.’

Santana looks to Brittany, who’s nodding eagerly, and sighs, her feigned exasperation completely undermined by her smile. ‘I guess it’s worth a shot. Okay, what’s the rest of the plan?’

*

Santana is ignoring other customers at the diner in favour of standing by Brittany’s table, playing with her newly blonde hair and stealing the occasional fry from her plate. The manager doesn’t seem to mind, too happy now that’s he’s expanded the menu past burgers and eager to show off his new recipes. The other teenagers in the diner steal the odd glance at the two of them, either because they keep smiling at each other, kissing, and giving each other sly little touches or maybe just because Brittany is still the only person in the town in full colour. It doesn’t matter why they’re looking – they want everyone to look. It’s just as much part of the plan as Kurt’s creation, and Santana feels a thrill knowing everyone is seeing her and her beautiful girlfriend happy together. She’s never had anyone be jealous of her before. She could grow to like it.

Bang on time, the bell over the door rings as Kurt and Blaine make their entrance. Santana and Brittany exaggerate their amazement at his outfit just as planned, but it’s completely unnecessary. Yes, everyone has seen odd splashes of colour in town, and a few are wearing them too, but those all happened spontaneously.

‘Kurt – where did you get that?’ Tina yells, running to him and grabbing a lapel to inspect it closely.

Rachel and Mercedes run over too, lifting Kurt’s arms so they can get a better look. ‘Is there a new street somewhere? I thought I’d seen all the new stores, and I haven’t seen anything like this!’

‘Did you already have it? I don’t remember it – what made it turn pink?’

Blaine grins, letting Kurt do all the talking and admiring him as he does it.

‘It’s not from a store. Well, the material is, from the new fabric store, and with some help from my mom, I made this.’

‘You made it? Oh my goodness! Do they have other colours?’

‘They have every colour you could think of. You don’t have to just wait for colour to appear. You can make it appear.’

This is where Blaine cuts in. ‘And there are other ways of doing it than just buying it.’

He looks over to Brittany, and everyone else follows his lead. There’s a pause.

‘Well?’ Mike asks. ‘How did you two do it?’

‘They kissed! In the park – I saw them!’ Rachel shouts. God, how is she even louder here than back home?

Before Brittany feels any more like an exhibit in a museum – not that she minds being treated like a work of art, judging from the way she preens at the attention – Blaine addresses everyone again.

‘Think about everything you’ve seen in colour the last couple of weeks. It didn’t just happen out of nowhere. Making that jacket made Kurt’s eyes go blue. When we…’ he glances at Kurt and feels his pulse quicken, ‘spent time together at the park last night, the blossoms turned pink. When Santana and I told you guys about, you know, the world, the town got ten times bigger.’

‘And all of this happened because I kissed Santana!’ Santana squeezes her hand and waits for Blaine to go on.

‘Do you want more colour? More streets and cities and books?’

Everyone nods, waiting for Blaine’s magical cure for their grey lives.

‘Well, you can make it happen.’

‘How?’ Puck asks. ‘Should I just kiss every girl I see so they all go into colour?’

‘If we just make up stuff, will it automatically appear?’

‘Tell us how it works!’

Blaine feels swamped, suddenly wishing he’d planned out what he was going to say a little better. He looks over to Santana, who tries to step in.

‘Okay, well, we don’t know exactly how everything works. But… think about every time you’ve wanted to do something, like, wanted to so much it’s like it’s bubbling up in your stomach.’ The crowd is somewhat placated, the handful wearing some colour thinking back to when it appeared. ‘But even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt anyone, even though it wasn’t against any rules, you stopped yourself because you felt ashamed. Or different to everyone else. Or you’d just never heard of it before.’

‘I’m still hearing that I should kiss a lot of girls.’

‘No, no, Puck,’ Blaine interjects, ‘because they might not want you to. You need to make sure of that first.’

Santana gives him a nod, holding up her fist to show that she appreciates the anti-patriarchal solidarity. He nods back.

‘There’s no list of activities that will make everything different. It just has to be something that makes you happy, something that- kind of opens you up.’

Quinn pipes up. ‘I see what you’re saying. But if you two know so much about it, how come you’re still in black and white just like the rest of us?’

Santana and Blaine exchange another glance. She shakes her head and shrugs.

‘I guess,’ Blaine says, ‘it needs to be something new. Maybe we’re still not open enough.’ The others murmur amongst themselves. ‘Well, think about it – what do you all want to try that you’ve never done before?’

Mike’s the first one to answer. ‘I want to dance. I mean, not like last week, like, really dance. Learn how to do it right.’

Tina speaks up next. ‘I wanna kiss Mike.’ He looks flustered, but excited. He turns to her, leaning down tentatively, and she grabs his face and plants a kiss on his lips. His eyes widen for a second before closing and pulling her close, and when they pull away, the rest of the diner is silent. Tina’s dress is bright orange. The others gasp gently.

‘I want to sing. On a stage in front of a huge crowd.’ Rachel’s eyes are glittering, and Mercedes takes her hand.

‘I want that, too.’

‘I want a motorbike. And one of those jackets I saw on one of the TVs in the store yesterday – a leather one.’ Blaine supresses a snort at Puck’s comment. To each his own.

‘And what’s stopping you?’ Santana asks.

Everyone looks around themselves, hoping for an answer to appear out of thin air. Kurt breaks the silence.

‘It’s scary because it’s new. Because this is just the way it’s always been. But it could be so much better.’ That seems to be the clincher for everyone and Blaine smiles at him, glowing with pride. ‘You can’t just rush everything because you think it’ll make colours appear. I don’t think that’ll work. You need to listen to that little voice inside that tells you something would be exciting, and ignore the other voice saying it’s too much of a change.’

When they were planning this, they weren’t sure how this was going to go. They had worried that this conversation would dissolve into chaos, everyone grabbing the nearest person and making out with them, blasting the newest songs on the jukebox, maybe even smashing the place to pieces, but the actual outcome was far stranger.

It could be what Kurt said about not rushing into anything, or maybe the people in this town are a lot more thoughtful than they gave them credit for, but they stay calm. Faces hardened in thought, nobody speaks, and an almost eerie hush falls over the diner. Santana walks to the jukebox, filled with yet more new music, and selects a Jackie Wilson song, keeping the volume low enough for everyone to think through everything they’ve just heard, but it’s still loud enough to create a shift in the atmosphere. Mike takes Tina’s hand, and they both start nodding in time to the music, smiles creeping onto their faces. Everyone starts smiling, tapping their feet. It’s not quite as giddy as last time – there’s a palpable tension in the air, full of concentration and possibility. There are some whispered conversations, nervous fingertips touching, a couple of voices starting to hum along.

The next thing takes them all by surprise.

Everyone leaves.

It doesn’t happen all at once, and everybody still says their thank yous and goodbyes, admiring Brittany’s rosy cheeks and Kurt’s blue eyes, but within twenty minutes, the only people left in the diner are the manager, Kurt and Blaine, Brittany and Santana.

The four of them sit around a table, the unfazed manager bringing them free snacks and drinks.

‘I don’t understand. The last time we showed everybody new stuff, they went nuts. It was just a book, and it turned into a party. Why did they all just leave?’

Kurt puts his hand over Blaine’s. ‘Maybe they just need some time to think. Can you blame them?’

Brittany nods. ‘In the last two weeks about a million things have changed. I get why they want to take things slowly.’

Santana, less surprised by Brittany’s wisdom every day but no less infatuated with her for it, adds, ‘We’ve had a lot more time to digest this. And think about the stuff that’s made colours appear – a lot of it’s been private. More power to Tina for smooching Mike in front of half of our school, but that’s not for everybody.’ The manager comes over with fresh plates of fries. ‘Bill, I’m so sorry everybody left. I didn’t mean for you to lose all your customers.’

His grin hasn’t faded at all since earlier. ‘Oh, that’s no problem. It gives me more time to mess around in the kitchen. I’ve tried so many new things lately – did you taste the difference in the fries? I added paprika and garlic salt to give them a little something extra. Did you know there are whole books with nothing but recipes in them?’ They all try one and nod in agreement – they’re delicious. Bill lingers for a moment, soaking up the praise. ‘You know, I really liked what you were saying before. About trying new things. It’s all so exciting – and look!’ He points to his hat. The tiny pin shaped like a spatula, so high they never would’ve seen if he hadn’t pointed it out, was green. He was obviously trying hard to contain his smile, like a child trying not to rip open all their presents on Christmas Eve. ‘Gee whizz, you kids really are something!’

He scurries back into the kitchen, undoubtedly to play some more with his exciting new herbs and spices. For some reason, watching this man, whose name he barely knows, makes it click. Blaine and Santana took their time, they thought things through, and rightly so. He cringes when he thinks back to his first night here, and the idea that his mission was to introduce this quaint little town to sex. Of course, it’s about so much more than that – for the town and for the two of them. And now this incredible boy is at his side, steadily building up the courage to start a small revolution with this little team of queer teenagers. If he’d just kissed him when he’d first seen him, would any colour have come into his eyes? There’s no way of finding out, but Blaine is already sure of the answer.

They don’t really know how much time they have left here, but he knows they need to do this right. He’d braced himself for an immediate uproar, but what they got is so much better.

The four of them lose track of time. When Blaine and Santana first got here, they only felt really comfortable around each other, but now that Brittany and Kurt have grown so much, and helped them to grow in the process, it feels natural to hang out together, not having to filter what they say or hold anything back. Blaine notices a connection between Kurt and Santana – he treats her with an unreserved gentleness that she’s rarely experienced before, at least not without a hint of fear or an ulterior motive. It brings out the best in her. He says her diner uniform miraculously looks good on her and she doesn’t even fling back some sarcastic, self-deprecating joke. At one point, when she makes him laugh, he gives her hand a squeeze and she doesn’t yank it away or close off, just keeps cackling with her head thrown back.

When they finally leave and part ways for the evening, it’s not just the couples who hug. Brittany squeezes Blaine and pecks his cheek with a loud ’mwah!’ and he notices when Santana and Kurt say goodbye that she closes her eyes, obviously relishing this new kind of friendship. He feels a pang of guilt for not being that friend to her before. Their quips and teasing were an integral part of their relationship, and he would never want to get rid of that, but he tries to think of one time back home when he told her how much he admired her, and how deeply he cared about her. They had always joked that they were just platonic beards, queer kids who bonded over their hatred for the straights, and he had assumed she knew she meant more to him than that. Maybe he needs to be clearer about it.

She and Brittany share a soft kiss goodbye, and Blaine has a feeling Kurt might be ready to do the same, but now all Blaine can think about is privacy. If this is going to happen, he wants it to be just them. He gives Kurt a lingering kiss on the cheek, and he and Santana continue towards their house.

‘I still don’t get it.’

‘Nobody really gets it; that’s kind of the problem.’

‘No, Blaine, I-’ she sighs in exasperation. ‘Why aren’t we in colour? How have we not done enough new stuff? We’ve introduced these kids to the whole planet. We’ve probably disrupted the space-time continuum. I’ve been nice to people! How is that not enough for, like, some cute red shoes or something?’

‘Honestly, I have no idea. I thought you helping Dad with that date would’ve done it.’

She side-eyes him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘What? Oh, nothing. Just, being really patient and everything. That was super nice. I thought you’d be full colour after that.’

‘Just because it’s nice? That’s the only reason, right?’

‘Yeah.’ He’s quick, quiet, racking his brain for a different topic. ‘So, how amazing does Brittany look?’

‘She looks incredible. That’s not new. I just hope you’re not implying anything about my real dad, because that would be a very risky move.’

‘Oh, I know.’

‘Because he is a waste of space who can’t take care of himself, let alone his daughter, and none of this is about him. This is totally different.’

‘Fine. He sucks.’

‘Thank you.’

Blaine glances at Santana. She resolutely keeps looking straight ahead as they walk home. But she doesn’t pull away when he puts his arm through hers.

‘Have I told you how great you are lately?’

‘If by “lately” you mean “literally ever once since we met”, then no.’

He laughs. ‘Well, you are. Here or there. You’re great, Tana.’

She still refuses to look at him, but she smiles to herself anyway.

‘You’re okay too, B.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fandom, we've been through some really difficult times, and this week has been awful and scary. I found a bit of comfort in having characters showing kindness to Santana, and I hope anyone seeing this can find some in reading it. The friends I've made through this are my family and I'm grateful for them every day. Thinking of you, Naya.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Principal Philips is becoming increasingly unhinged as changes keep happening in Lima.

Bob Philips likes his life. Or, at least, he used to.

Being the principal of William McKinley was a breeze. The basketball team won every game, the students never stepped out of line, and each day was pleasant. He would wake up every single morning, see the sun shining, and know that day would be just the same as the day before. An easy existence where his authority went unquestioned, unchallenged, unalterable. That was how he liked it.

Now, he is starting to feel the ease slip out of his life. For the first Monday since he started teaching, he walks to work with an unfamiliar heaviness in his stomach. He knows that today will involve a level of effort never previously required for teaching, and it fills him with dread.

His fears are confirmed as soon as the students start to arrive. Things are… changing.

The orange basketballs were one thing, but today he can see colour everywhere, in shoes, in hair, on nails, students laughing and joking and flirting, and it makes his blood boil. He starts doing something he’s never had to do in twenty-five years as an educator.

That Puckerman boy is standing by his locker, not getting anything out of it, not walking to class, just waiting. Smiling. ‘Young man, that’s a detention.’

Puck freezes, looking around for someone to back him up. ‘What? I didn’t do anything.’

‘You’re loitering.’

‘But – I don’t even know where detention is!’

Philips hesitates. He’s not sure either.

‘I’ll have a note sent to you this afternoon.’

Blaine and Kurt join the scene, holding hands. Although Philips appreciates that Blaine is one of the few students with enough respect to stay completely in black and white, this obnoxious display of affection hits him like a slap in the face.

‘Sir, is that necessary? He really wasn’t doing anything.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’d both like it if I overlooked the rules of this establishment, wouldn’t you?’

When Philips glares down at the two joined hands, Kurt yanks his away nervously, but Blaine gently and calmly takes hold of it again.

‘Mr Philips, with all due respect,’ he was quickly starting to think the appropriate amount of respect was none at all, ‘I don’t think there are any rules against standing in the hall or me holding hands with my boyfriend.’

They all think he’s about to start frothing at the mouth. They’ve never seen an adult’s face twitch like that before.

‘You will do as you’re told! You don’t make the rules here, young man, I do, and I say you’re breaking them! You’re all in detention after school!’

The whole corridor goes quiet. Dozens of students stare at the commotion unfolding.

Something in the principal’s voice tells the boys it’s not the time to argue. He looks at everyone menacingly. ‘Anyone else want to join them?’

They all feel guilty about it, especially with all the talk yesterday of being braver and making changes, but they’ve never been in detention before, and that’s not the kind of fun new experience they had in mind. Blaine glances around and shakes his head as if to say, ‘stand down’. Out loud, he says, ‘Detention. Fine. No problem. We’ll be there.’

Philips regains his composure, straightening his tie. He gives the crowd one last stare before striding to his office.

Puck scowls at his back as he walks away, as if he can somehow make his head explode with sheer willpower. He hangs back to mutter to Kurt and Blaine, ‘Ignore what that idiot says. I think it’s cute when you two hold hands.’ He gives Kurt’s arm a quick pat before making his way to his next class. They both smile and squeeze their hands together a little tighter.

‘Quick question,’ Kurt says.

‘Shoot.’

‘How does detention work?’

*

They find out soon enough. Having spent most of lunchtime looking for it, they manage to turn up to the detention room on time. Philips spends the first 5 minutes giving them an intimidating speech about the importance of rules and respect, which leaves Blaine nonplussed, Kurt slightly rattled, and Puck having an existential crisis. Philips obviously has never had to oversee detention before – he doesn’t set them lines to copy out or any other form of punishment, just leaves them to it, saying he’ll be back at 4. It’s a lot of trust to put in students he hates, but the thought that they could just walk out doesn’t even occur to him. Blaine’s furious that with so little time left with Kurt, he’s spending it here – yes, they’re together, but they’re with the weirdest third wheel imaginable.

By 3:30, Kurt is resting his head on his hand, Blaine has his on his desk, and their hands dangle, linked together between them. Puck is onto his third conspiracy theory about how they ended up here.

‘It’s because he knows how much power we have, you and me. You know it’s the three of us that are leading the charge with changing things. That’s what he’s scared of.’

Kurt still has enough patience left to give an ‘Mm-hmm.’ Blaine does not.

‘Isn’t it crazy, though? It’s like, a couple of weeks ago, something around here changed, and it set a bunch of other stuff in motion. I could swear it all started with… with you, Blaine.’

Blaine lifts his head up. Has Puck landed on the truth on his whirlwind tour of eighty different wrong answers? He shrugs. ‘I don’t think it’s about me. I mean, I’m still grey, so it can’t be me.’

Puck narrows his eyes at both of them. Blaine can feel Kurt’s hand getting clammy – something tells them it won’t be good if everyone figures out the truth.

‘Yeah, I think the town is just, you know, moving forward. Don’t think about all of it too much, Puck, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, just enjoy it!’ Kurt’s voice is frantic, his eyes wide. Blaine strokes his finger with his thumb.

Puck’s mouth opens slowly, pointing at Blaine, as he gets ready for some kind of big declaration.

‘It’s aliens!’

Their shoulders drop with relief.

‘That sounds plausible,’ Blaine says, nodding. Puck frowns in confusion again. ‘I mean, it sounds like it could be the right answer. And you shouldn’t try and think of any more.’

‘I knew it. They’re sending signals down from the moon and it’s making everything here better.’ He looks to the ceiling, fist over his heart. ‘Thanks, fellas. I owe you one.’

The others smile for a moment, then remember where they are.

‘I can’t believe we’re stuck here.’

‘I told you before, nobody’s watching us. We can just leave.’

Puck freezes. ‘No. No, we can’t just go, we’ll be in even more trouble!’

Blaine can hardly believe what he’s hearing, but then he feels Kurt’s hand on the small of his back.

‘He might just put us in here again tomorrow, and actually stick around to make sure we stay. Or worse, keep us in separate rooms.’ Blaine sighs. Kurt is right. ‘And if we make him mad, he’ll probably keep a closer eye on us. It’ll just make it harder to do what we want to do.’

Blaine smiles at him, ‘You’re so smart,’ he says, leaning across to kiss his cheek, ‘Fine. We’ll stick it out.’

‘I’m still so… I hate that guy! I was just standing there and he started yelling at me! It’s not fair!’

This feels like it might be going somewhere more productive than the aliens theory. Blaine sits up. ‘You’re right, Puck. Keep going.’

‘He can’t do that to us! He’s just scared that we’re happier, that he might not be able to control us all! He doesn’t even know about everyone else, trying to figure out right now how they can grow and change, and soon we’ll all be way too strong and too angry for him to stop us!’

Kurt puts a hand on Puck’s knee. ‘Are you okay?’

Puck’s eyes, suddenly light brown, flash back at him. He doesn’t look as clueless as usual – he seems alive and awake. A smile is growing on his face.

‘Yeah, I’m… I’m good. I’m out of here. He can throw me back in every day for all I care. I’m not just going to sit here and let that guy control me.’ Blaine glances at the clock. There’s only ten minutes left. He knows that for him and Kurt it isn’t worth the risk of walking out now, but misbehaving is Puck’s calling. And it could keep the momentum going across the town. He grabs his things and walks to the door, stopping and turning back once he gets there. He points at Kurt and Blaine in turn. ‘And you two. Don’t let anybody tell you not to hold hands. You both have those big smiles when you do it, and it’s nice, and it shows the rest of us that anything is possible. You got that?’

They smile at each other, then at him.

‘Got it,’ Kurt says. Puck gives a final, determined nod and leaves. ‘Should we really be encouraging that? Won’t he get into trouble?’

Blaine tilts his head. ‘From what I know about him, he kind of thrives off trouble. It makes him more creative. I think that’s what the leather jacket thing was about yesterday.’

Kurt wrinkles his nose incredulously. ‘Noah Puckerman? The boy who almost cried when he found out it was okay to hug his friends? A tough guy?’ He breathes in deeply, eyebrows raised. ‘If you say so.’ Blaine laughs. This version of Puck is definitely a little different, but the way his face lit up at the idea of causing chaos was pretty familiar.

‘We can go too if you want.’

Kurt shakes his head. ‘No.’

‘Okay. I totally understand why you want to play it safe.’

Kurt sits up straighter and looks out of the window for a moment at the cloudless grey sky. He looks back to Blaine and shakes his head. There’s a resolve on his face that Blaine hasn’t seen before.

‘No.’

Blaine frowns. ‘No what?’

‘No, I don’t want to play it safe. Last night we told everybody to be brave, to do what felt right even if it might get them in trouble. And now I’m afraid of getting in trouble myself? No. We can’t let everybody else be brave for us.’

‘So you want to lead by example?’

‘I don’t want to follow rules that are wrong. That he made up so he could make us do what he wanted. We’re not leaving. But we’re not doing what he says, either. When he gets back here, he’s going to see that he can’t stop us.’

Blaine stares at him in admiration, a warm smile creeping onto his face. ‘You’re incredible, Kurt. I…’ he almost doesn’t say it, but if Kurt can be brave, so can he. ‘I love you.’ The hard determination in Kurt’s face softens immediately into a shy smile. That flush of pink comes to his cheeks, only for a moment. He starts to lean in towards Blaine, whose head spins and pulse races, but the touch he braces himself for never comes. Eyes closed, he feels Kurt’s forehead press against his. As lovely as it is, his heart sinks. He really thought that was going to be the moment.

‘I love you too.’

Okay, the thudding in his chest doesn’t stop completely.

They both look down for a moment, wondering if anything else has changed colour. This feels just as powerful as the books, the jacket, the park, if not more. They’re not exactly disappointed that nothing has changed, but it’s a surprise. They look at each other questioningly, both shrugging when they have no idea why there’s no new colour.

A throat clears in the doorway. The boys flinch apart and jump to their feet. Then they remember that however nervous this guy makes them, they’re not letting him win. Without breaking eye contact with Mr Philips, Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand. Blaine has to ball his free hand into a fist, the feeling of nails in his palm stopping him from laughing. Kurt’s defiance is somehow funny and hot at the same time.

He has to ignore the little voice in his head telling him that the best way to show Philips that they’re unstoppable would be to kiss Kurt, right here, right now – if Kurt wanted to, he would’ve done it.

Mr Philips’s face is like granite. ‘So, it appears you two haven’t learned your lesson.’

‘Yeah. Isn’t that strange?’ Kurt asks, the picture of innocence, hand still firmly holding onto Blaine’s.

‘Where’s Puckerman?’

They shrug.

‘Could be anywhere by now,’ Blaine says, ‘he left ten minutes ago.’

‘What happens now, sir? Should we come back here tomorrow? And the day after? That might help us learn somehow.’

For a moment, the stony façade falters. There’s a flash of boiling anger, and Blaine could swear he even sees a little tinge of red in his cheeks, before the cold exterior returns.

‘Detention every day seems like a good place to start. Same time tomorrow, gentlemen. Now, get out of my sight.’

They pick up their bags somewhat awkwardly, since they refuse to unlink their hands, and Kurt leads them out with bold strides. Blaine grins at Mr Philips, giving him a little wave as he calls out ‘See you tomorrow, sir, have a swell evening!’

They run down the hall and out of the school, stopping, breathless and sniggering, on the grass outside.

‘That was… that was amazing, Kurt. Did you see how mad he got?’

Catching his breath, Kurt looks into Blaine’s eyes. ‘Just to be clear – I wanted to. In there. I really wanted to.’ It takes Blaine a second to piece together what he means, then it clicks.

‘Oh. Oh, Kurt, you know I don’t mind. Whenever you’re ready.’

‘I wanted to really show him how real we are, and then I realised how riled up I was about him, and that’s not what I want to be thinking about when it happens. When we… you know.’

Blaine steps closer to Kurt, whose arms automatically find his waist. ‘You’re right. When it happens, I want it be because of us. Nothing else.’

‘Me too.’

Blaine puts his arms around Kurt’s neck and smiles up at him. ‘And if you can’t say the word kissing, maybe you’re not ready yet.’

Kurt squirms a little, smiling sheepishly. ‘I can say,’ he has to look down at Blaine’s bowtie instead of his face, ‘… kissing. And if you make fun of me, you’ll never get to do it.’

Blaine immediately holds both hands up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I take back every word. I’ll never tease you again.’

Two tiny bluebirds land on the grass next to them. Kurt gasps, and Blaine, as usual, smiles watching him. ‘Do you think that was us?’

‘Well, I don’t think it was Puck.’

They stand still for a moment, holding each other while watching the birds hop about together. This does feel bigger than colourful clothes. Blaine feels it’s almost biblical – Let there be bluebirds. It’s a moment so small yet so profound, nature itself changing because of two boys in love. They both need to get home, as they’re already so late leaving school. When they hug goodbye, complete with kisses on cheeks, it’s that little bit harder than usual to let go.

There’s a new buzz at home when Blaine arrives.

Dad is home, which he usually wouldn’t be for a while. He’s at the table, with Mom and Santana, the three of them all poring over papers. Great, Blaine thinks, he’s back to reading the newspaper instead of being part of the family, but then he gets a closer look.

Mom and Santana’s paper is a form, filled out with Mom’s details. And Dad –

‘What’s going on in here?’

‘Sweetheart, I’m applying for a job! Your sister’s helping me, seeing as she knows more about being a career girl than I do!’

Santana tries to hide it, but she’s swelling with pride.

‘Hey, you did most of it without me. Okay, just the last question to go. Why do you want this position?’

Mom frowns. ‘Well, I don’t know. It’s just secretarial work, because I’m not qualified for much else-’

Blaine sits next to her. ‘So maybe don’t answer for this specific job. Explain why you want to start going to work.’

She looks at her children, at her husband, and brushes hair back from Santana’s face before she starts writing, reading her answer aloud as she does so. ‘I want to make my family proud.’

Blaine and Santana hug her from either side, making it clear how proud they are of her every day, while Dad, tongue sticking out, keeps working on his project.

‘There. Oh, goodness, this is terrible.’ It’s a painting. When Blaine asks what gave him the idea, he tells him he had spent all morning at work, bored out of his mind, staring at the craft store across the street. At lunch, he just walked right out of the office, bought a set of paints, and marched straight home. He had decided that spending the day with his wife, attempting to put his love for her on paper, seemed like a far better use of his time. Now, he looks down at his work, the grey figure with green dots on what are presumably her ears, and he bursts out laughing at how bad it is. The others look up, and no matter how hard they try, they just can’t force themselves to take it seriously. It really is atrocious. But when Dad finally looks up, away from the painting, at his wife, he says, ‘Oh, my. It’s worse than I thought. This is all wrong. I have to start over.’

‘Sorry for laughing, Dad – maybe there’s still some way to salvage it?’

Blaine adds ‘Yeah, don’t beat yourself up. It takes a while to get good at this kind of thing.’

He stares at each of his children in turn.

‘No. I’m not being hard on myself. Look at the painting.’ They do, managing to stifle their laughter this time. ‘Now look at your mother.’

Santana claps her hand over her mouth, and Blaine almost knocks over Dad’s water jar.

‘What?’ Mom asks. Santana puts an arm around her shoulders and takes her hand, helping her out of her seat so she can see the mirror on the wall. She sees a beautiful woman, in full colour, light blue dress, bright green eyes, and a full red smile. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ She brings her hand up to her face for a moment, her smile lost. She turns to her husband. ‘Darling, I’m sorry. I can cover it up if you want.’

He stands next to her, taking both of her hands and looking her dead in the eyes. ‘Don’t even think about it.’ He kisses her, and when he turns to the mirror, he sees that he matches his wife. His hair is a little greyer, his suit a slightly darker blue, but their smiles are the same. She gasps and throws her arms around him, while Blaine puts his hand over Santana’s.

Obviously, they’re thrilled for Mom and Dad and the transformation in them; they’re two entirely different people compared to two weeks ago. But with even their parents moving forward faster than them, along with everyone else in this town, they’re starting to feel more like outsiders than when they got here.

‘Oh, and Blaine,’ Mom says, turning to him, ‘we need to talk about this afternoon. I assumed you were just with Kurt, but your sister informed me that you were put in detention today.’ Blaine’s hands start to sweat. The thought of letting his parents down hurts as much here as it did back home. ‘I have to say, this is very disappointing.’

‘Mom, I’m so sorry, it’s just that-’

Mom looks shocked and takes his face in both of her hands.

‘Oh, no, my darling, I could never be disappointed in you. It’s that awful man who has the nerve to call himself an educator. I can’t believe he would dare to hold you back after school just for holding hands with that lovely boyfriend of yours!’

He heaves out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh. Thanks, Mom.’

‘I’m going into school tomorrow, first thing, to give that man a piece of my mind.’

‘That’s right son,’ Dad adds, ‘he’s not treating you like this and getting away with it.’

Blaine and Santana share a look. She nods, giving him freedom to handle this however he thinks is best.

‘Actually, I have a better idea. Mom, are you seeing any of your friends soon?’

Not much surprises him here anymore. But just as he’s gotten used to the idea of being involved in a revolution, he now realises it’s going to involve his mother’s weekly bridge game. There’s still some shock left.

*

Tuesday’s detention session is significantly busier than yesterday’s. Tina and Mike are there thanks to a peck on the cheek in the hallway. Finn is apparently in for showing an inappropriate amount of affection – meaning he’s hugged most of his classmates before lunchtime and Philips thinks it’s weird. Brittany and Santana get thrown in for laughing too loudly, but Santana can see Philips’ anger spark when he spots Brittany’s blonde hair and peachy freckles. It’s made Brittany want to hide all day, especially as so far she’s still the only student fully in colour.

It brings the mood down all day. It’s as if he’s managed to hang a dark cloud over the whole school – figuratively, at least, as it’s still perpetually sunny. Despite everyone’s excitement before about shaking things up, it’s hard for them not to be put off – the only emotion these kids have ever experienced before is a vague, blank happiness. Being yelled at by a mean, tall man is more than enough to intimidate and upset them. Blaine and Santana can only watch throughout their classes as everyone recedes back into their shells for fear of getting into trouble.

The dozen or so students in detention sit quietly at first. They know that they haven’t really done anything wrong, but that doesn’t stop them from feeling weighed down by guilt.

‘I guess we should stop,’ Mike says. He’s deliberately sitting a couple of seats away from Tina so he isn’t tempted to do something truly scandalous like hold her hand or let their knees touch. He looks like a puppy that’s been kicked around.

Sam nods. ‘I don’t like it here. I feel terrible.’ He’s in for high-fiving Puck, and Puck was already signed up because of leaving yesterday.

Blaine looks over to Santana. They both know everyone needs a pep talk, but they don’t know if they’ve got it in them today. Blaine’s exhausted – surely, if he was really that helpful, then he would have just a little bit of colour by now? And maybe everyone wouldn’t be so miserable. Santana’s priority is comforting Brittany, whose demeanour is close to Mike’s. All they can think of is, ‘sorry, things are just going to feel shit sometimes.’

‘No.’ Everyone looks at Quinn, startled by her defiance. She’s been one of the most hesitant so far. When Philips gave her detention for walking to class too slowly, and looked disdainfully at her peach-coloured sweater, she’d taken it off as soon as she arrived at her lesson and hidden it in her bag. Now, she takes it out again, running her fingertips over the embroidered flowers on the front of it. ‘I don’t want to stop.’

Puck smiles at her. ‘Me neither.’

‘But,’ Tina interrupts, ‘I hate this. I want to be outside. When he shouted at us, I wanted the ground to swallow me up.’

‘But can’t you see how crazy it’s making him?’ Puck asks. ‘He’s losing control. Throwing us in here is a panic move. Have any of you seen that little vein popping in his head when he yells? That’s my trophy for getting under his skin.’

Everyone laughs.

‘It shouldn’t matter that he doesn’t like it, or that we end up in here for it,’ Quinn says. ‘Let him get mad. Let him give us detention. I’m not going to stop reading books and learning about new places. It’s not like the other adults even agree with him. You saw how excited our teachers were to teach us new stuff, not just the same lesson over and over.’

‘Our parents are in full colour now. They can’t get enough change.’ Blaine adds.

Santana says ‘Yeah, our dad has been painting. I mean, badly, but he’s still doing it. Our mom is getting a job, and she’s going to start telling the other moms about what’s happening here. The changes are good for the grownups too, not just us. It’s only Philips that has a problem, and he’s-’ she wants to say some bad words but remembers they probably won’t understand them, ‘he’s wrong. He has no right to make you feel like this.’ She looks at Brittany then, stroking her hand. ‘No right.’

Tina gets up and sits next to Mike, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Yeah. I don’t want to go back.’

Mike smiles coyly at her. ‘Okay. Neither do I.’

Kurt has been observing quietly so far, holding Blaine’s hand and listening to the others. ‘It’s okay to be scared. A lot of this is fun and exciting but it’s a fight too. Didn’t we all say we were ready for that?’

‘I was born ready,’ Puck says. ‘There’s only one of him.’

Blaine can see cogs turning in Kurt’s mind. ‘Yes. Yes, Puck, you’ve got it!’

‘I have?’

‘There’s power in numbers. If it’s just him against all of us – not just the school, but the whole town – he’s got nothing. He can’t put everybody in detention.’

Puck stands up abruptly. ‘So we should trash the place before he gets back? Right?’

Santana gives him a look and gestures for him to sit back down. Quinn pats his hand. ‘We’re all on basically the same page. But timing is important. We just need to make sure every single person is on board before we try and bring him down.’

Mike looks like a lightbulb’s just lit over his head. ‘Friday. Everybody’s going to be here on Friday for the Big Game. The whole town always comes to cheer us on.’

A silence falls upon the room for a moment.

Brittany sits up. She’s been miserable all day since Philips shouted at her in front of her friends and looked at her like she was a piece of dirt. He made her feel like an outsider, like the new flush in her cheeks and the new way the sunshine bounced off her hair made her different and wrong, rather than beautiful and full of life. Now her eyes are determined. Santana had done everything she could to put her back together, but she realises it has to come from Brittany.

‘Then we’ve got three days. Talk to your parents. We can all talk to our friends. I don’t care if he puts me in here again. I’m not stopping.’

Santana glows with pride and kisses her. ‘Good. I couldn’t stand it if you stopped.’

The nervous uncertainty from Sunday night has fizzled out and been replaced with something fiercer. The group exits at 4pm, leaving Philips puzzled as to how they’re still not broken.

Bob Philips usually likes his life. On any normal week, he would say he’s a fairly content man. But this is not going to be any normal week.

*

Word has started to spread by Wednesday morning. Friday night it’ll be the whole town against Philips, and so far everybody is totally on board with the plan. Nobody tells the other teachers, in case word gets back to the principal, but they’re clearly as excited about moving forward as the kids. It’s not just the geography teacher, either.

In English, they’re finally moving past penmanship, punctuation and grammar, and actually doing something interesting for the first time.

‘Miss Robinson helped me out by giving me these photographs,’ Miss Mendoza explains as she hands out pictures to all the students. ‘They’re of people and places I’ve never even heard of. I want you to use these to do a piece of creative writing. It can be about whatever you want. I have one rule: it must take place _outside of Lima_.’

Everyone is lost for a good ten minutes, but she lets them share ideas and gives them some pointers to get them started, and soon enough the room is silent as everyone scribbles down their stories.

Philips is stalking the corridors, keeping a vigilant eye out for any reason to throw a student in detention. He’s desperate to show that he won’t back down until every single child is doing exactly what he wants. He smiles as he approaches Miss Mendoza’s classroom. He knows which students are in there now, and he’s pleased not to hear a peep. He enters just so he can smile at them smugly, let them know that he’s won, but he ends up horrified.

Instead of the usual basic sentences copied out into books, each student has something different written in front of them. They’re all looking at little photographs of things he doesn’t recognise, jungles and cities and broad, colourful sunsets. Worst of all, half of the class, students who were perfectly normal this morning, are now fully in colour.

‘Miss Mendoza, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Look at what you’ve done to these children!’

‘What?’ She looks up from Tina’s desk, where she had been helping her with a character description, and she gasps. ‘Oh, goodness! Don’t you all look wonderful!’

Most eyes in the room go to Mercedes, whose skin looks different to everyone else, even the other kids who are in colour. Her skin is a gorgeous dark brown none of them have seen before, and they’re amazed.

‘Mercedes,’ Sam says, ‘you – you look so beautiful.’

Taken by surprise, she looks up from her work to see her arms, dark against the red and white of her cheerleading uniform. She hurriedly reaches into her bag for her compact and gasps when she sees herself. ‘Oh, I – wow. I mean, you all look nice, but I am _glowing_. I look _stunning_. Ooh, I never want to stop looking at myself!’ She tilts her head to see how the light catches her skin at different angles.

‘Not one more word!’ Philips shouts. ‘Every single one of you just earned a detention. And Miss Mendoza, I think you’d better follow the standard curriculum, or you may not have a job to come back to.’

‘That’s not fair!’ Quinn says, ‘She actually _teaching_ us something for once! Look how much everyone’s enjoying the lesson – or at least, they were until you came in. We didn’t do anything wrong!’

The vein Puck pointed out yesterday is popping out again. ‘You are not here to be creative. You are here to do as you are told. That is how school prepares you for the real world. Quinn, you can join Miss Jones in detention for the rest of the week.’

Mercedes is distraught. ‘For what? I didn’t do this on purpose! And I look so good!’

‘Arrogance does not suit you, young lady, and if you know what’s good for you, nobody will say another word. Back to your usual studies, right this second, and I will see you all at 3pm.’

Miss Mendoza looks like a rabbit in headlights, practically cowering until he’s gone.

‘I guess… I think we should stop our writing for now. You can finish it another day.’

They want to argue, to keep going, now that they’re finally getting some joy out of their lessons, but they don’t want to upset her any more.

‘Maybe we could just finish it for homework?’ Mike offers.

She nods. ‘That would be lovely, Mike. I really do want to read what you’ve done. But for this morning, I suppose it’s back to handwriting.’

The rest of the lesson is silent, but there’s still an air of defiance in the room. Miss Mendoza is radiating quiet rage.

*

Detention isn’t detention tonight. It’s a committee meeting.

Kurt elects himself head of design for Friday, and nobody argues. They make a list of supplies they’ll need – fabrics, paints, cardboard. Puck not-so-subtly tells everyone he’s got his own plans to mess with Philips. The basketball team and the Cheerleaders work together on choreography and presentation, making everything as obnoxious and loud as possible. They discuss whose parents are willing to get involved, which seems to everybody’s, and plan their involvement. They lose track of time, almost forgetting to be back in their seats quietly by 3:55 in time for him to come back to let them go.

When he does return, he seems eerily calm, especially compared to his outburst this morning.

‘How is everyone feeling? Still excited about your new, exciting developments?’

‘We’re fine, thank you, Mr Philips,’ Kurt says, matching his tone. ‘Just trying to learn from our mistakes. Can’t wait to see if it sticks.’

Philips smiles. The vein doesn’t throb. ‘Well, tomorrow will be the perfect time to test out your new education.’

Mercedes frowns. ‘What do you mean? What’s happening tomorrow?’

‘You’ll see. I’ll be making an announcement in first period that I think you’ll all find fascinating. Hopefully it’ll clear up some of the recent confusion regarding the rules of this fine establishment.’

For a moment, the students look at each other, worried by how calm he is, scared what the new rules will be, thrown off by this unexpected turn. But they quickly realise that they can’t let him see them looking bothered. They mirror his behaviour.

‘That’ll be very helpful, sir,’ Puck says, ‘I love rules. Can’t get enough.’

Philips mostly manages to hide his disappointment at their lack of distress. Mostly. The vein isn’t as good at playing it cool as the rest of him.

‘Excellent. You may all go home. And you know, one step out of line, and you’ll be right back here tomorrow.’

They’re not sure how it happens, but they manage to simultaneously give him huge, unnatural smiles.

‘Goodbye, Mr Philips,’ they chime in near-perfect unison as they file out of the room.

*

At home, dinner is barely touched. They’re too busy discussing Friday night. Thanks to Mom and Dad, all of the adults in the town are excited to get involved. They’re all jealous of the colour and affection and joy between them, not to mention thrilled at the recent availability of bigger beds.

*

They have English again on Thursday. Miss Mendoza has obviously caught the rebellion bug – they aren’t doing creative writing today, but she’s found something she’s even more excited about. Not to mention her skin is now a light brown, her dress lilac. Something has clearly woken up in her.

‘Listen, everyone. I read the most incredible book last night. I didn’t put it down until I finished it. I want us to read it as a class and look at some parts in detail, maybe even write about it afterwards. It… it’s changed how I think about teaching. About life. Mike, Finn, could you pass these around to everybody please?’

Santana smiles when she’s handed a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. It’s been a while since she read it, but she remembers being moved to tears by it, although she obviously kept that a secret at the time. Back then, Atticus had reminded her of her own father, the way he read with her when she was little, how he always spoke to her like an adult and told her the truth – something her mother couldn’t manage. She misses looking up to him like that. She peels back the front cover, scanning through the information in the front, and her eyes widen. She clears her throat and glares at Blaine, trying to get his attention. Even though she knows it won’t work, she tries to mouth to him:

‘I, ee, is, ee.’

He scrunches his face up at her.

Rolling her eyes, she points to the inside of the book.

Still nothing.

She puts it down and holds her fingers up. First one, then nine, then six, then she curls her hand into a zero. He quickly looks inside the cover and grins.

Everything so far has felt firmly stuck in the 50s – the music, the clothes, the gender roles – but this book came out in 1960. Nobody has seen it in the library before now as far as they know. Things really must be moving forward in a big way, bigger than Philips can possibly control.

They look to the front, where Miss Mendoza has written on the board: ‘What does fairness mean? What should we be willing to do to get it?’

Subtle. Looks like Philips may have chosen the wrong teacher to yell at in front of her students.

Kurt raises his hand.

‘Fairness means everybody having the same opportunities as everybody else. Everyone being treated the same no matter who they are.’

‘I love that answer, thank you Kurt. Can anybody give me an example of a time when they’ve experienced something being unfair?’

‘Every single thing Mr Philips has done for the last week?’

Miss Mendoza does a half-decent job of hiding her smirk. ‘Now, now, let’s not name names. But can you elaborate on what you mean?’

Blaine and Santana sit back and let the others fill in the gaps.

‘Throwing us in detention.’

‘Treating me differently just because my skin is a different colour.’

‘Exploding at you in front of your class – I don’t know how you didn’t hit him.’

‘Taking the orange basketballs away. I liked them. They were so much easier to see.’

‘Right. That’s really interesting, thank you everyone. Now, I want you to talk to the person next to you about the second question: What should we be willing to do to get fairness?’

The feedback is unanimous. ‘Whatever it takes.’

She smiles. She’s as shocked as the rest of them by what happens next, but she obviously knew something big was coming, hence the heavy-handed questioning. The seldom-used speaker in an upper corner of the room crackles into life, making them all jump.

‘Good morning, students of William McKinley High. It has come to my attention that new teaching resources have recently become available. To be clear, at this school, we will adhere to the traditional curriculum. New maps, books, and technologies are not to be studied by any student. We have also updated the school dress code: From tomorrow onwards, students may only wear black, white and grey, regardless of the recent availability of other colours. Students with coloured skin are expected to apply makeup so that this is covered.’ Mercedes, Brittany, and the other students who no longer have grey skin are crestfallen. The voice continues to ring out over their heads.

‘I am aware that some classrooms now contain colour – this will be rectified this weekend. I will be recruiting staff and parents to volunteer to patrol the new areas of the town, to prevent inappropriate behaviour between students. You represent our school when you are in public, and we expect you to behave in the correct way, reflecting our school values. Boys may shake hands and pat each other on the back. Girls may hug, in friendship only. Anyone found displaying any more affection than this either at school or in town, including holding hands, will be escorted home.’

Puck clenches his fist. Tina scowls. Finn looks ready to cry.

‘Tonight’s detention is cancelled, so that everyone has time to source appropriate clothing for school. Instead of the hour spent monitoring this session, I will be gathering materials for a special event this evening. I have been made aware of the large amounts of… unpleasant reading material in our school library, as well as the library in town. I will be collecting books that should not be accessed by children, or indeed by anyone, and destroying them. This will take place on the school field at 7pm tonight, and I hope to see you and your parents there, so that my intentions are completely clear to everybody.’ Miss Mendoza’s face falls, as do Quinn and Kurt’s. ‘If you are currently in possession of any books, please return them to me by the end of today. Thank you for your attention. Have a superb day of learning everyone.’

The silence lasts at least thirty seconds. Suddenly any honest discussion on school premises feels more dangerous. They don’t know if he can hear them, or if he’ll march them home, suspend them, or worse, make them help destroy the books. The idea is unbearable to all of them, whether they’ve actually been reading them or not.

Quinn’s voice is shaky when she asks, ‘Miss Mendoza… what should we do? Do we have to give the books to him?’

She takes a deep breath before answering. She knows she needs to be careful.

‘I’m sure you all understand that I can’t tell you to go against the principal’s instructions. I’m an employee at this school, and I have to support his decisions.’ The students’ faces fall. ‘However, if you question those decisions, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can tell you that I will not be volunteering to patrol the streets, and I doubt any other teachers will be eager to give up their time, regardless of their opinions. I can remind you of what you just said about fairness, and how we should be willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen.’ Her expression is inscrutable, but they smile at her. ‘I can also tell you that he can’t burn books that he can’t find. In fact, I have no idea where any of my books are. And if they end up in your houses, there’s nothing he can do about it.’

Everyone quickly stashes their copy of the book into their bags with a mischievous grin.

‘So the other teachers are sick of him, too?’ Finn asks.

She smiles. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never suggest such a thing.’

Finn’s mouth hangs open in confusion. Kurt pats his arm and nods at him. ‘Oh. Right. Okay.’

‘And it’s good that there’s no detention tonight, because I’ve heard people have been using detentions to make certain plans. I just hope those discussions don’t move to the diner, around 7:30, right after Mr Philips’ event here. When I’m not at work, and I can say whatever I want.’

There’s a ripple of laughter in the room.

‘Please tell me we don’t have to do more handwriting practice.’

‘You need to have it in front of you in case anybody drops into the lesson.’

This is almost as exciting as reading the book would have been. This kind of naughtiness is new and fun and makes Finn feel like a spy.

*

The second the bell rings at 3, everyone runs home to get to work.

They’re surprised how many people pitch in to help hide the books. Every parent, their friends and colleagues, even Santana’s boss raid the libraries with boxes, bags, even some wheelbarrows, much to the librarians’ delight, so they can all be stashed in garages and cupboards and underneath beds.

Once this is done, they have to change back into grey clothes, some applying grey make-up and slightly darker grey lipstick, tying up any non-grey hair. It’s galling, but they keep reminding themselves that they won’t have to adhere to these rules for long.

Just as Philips wanted, the whole town shows up to the school field to watch his amazing ceremony, destroying the things corrupting the young minds. The only slight divergence from his plan: he can’t find a single god damned book, and he hasn’t been able to get anybody to help him man the event. A huge crowd smiles serenely, waiting for him to get started. He’s a sweaty, rumpled mess from assembling scraps of wood to get a bonfire started, but it won’t light. Burt even offers to help at this point, albeit sarcastically, but Philips refuses. Once he finally gets some smoke up, he turns to a box next to him, plucking a rectangular object from it.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, here we have just one example of the kind of filth that I will expunge from this town. This used to be a place of goodness, of safety, and now these are appearing. Full of obscenity, and disrespect, and the kind of ideas we don’t want our children growing up with. I’m so glad you’re all here to take a stand with me as we destroy these books!’

That doesn’t get the roaring cheer he expects.

Blaine and Santana’s father raises his hand.

‘Uh, yes, Mr Anderson?’

‘That’s not a book.’

Philips falters. ‘Well, um…’

‘He’s right!’ Puck shouts, delighted, ‘It’s a block of wood!’ He runs over, reaches into the box and grabs another “book” – they’re all blocks of wood, three sides crudely painted to look like book covers. ‘How long did these take you, Principal? They’re not very good.’

Everyone in the crowd has to squeeze their lips together so they don’t laugh. Philips snatches the block out of Puck’s hand.

‘Due to some safety concerns, I chose to use facsimiles instead of real books. The real books… will be destroyed privately. This is more, uh, symbolic. Please rest assured, everyone, your children are safe from this menace to our community.’

He waits for applause, but is met by silence and a few cracks and pops from the dwindling fire.

‘Okay. Can we leave now?’ Tina asks.

Philips looks around, scrambling for some way to salvage this train wreck, but he knows it’s hopeless.

‘Yes. But don’t forget that the new rules will be enforced tomorrow.’ He has to shout to be heard as the crowd disperses. ‘There will be serious consequences to any breaches!’ Burt scoffs. ‘Mr Hummel, did you just roll your eyes at me?’

Burt, completely unbothered, squares up to him.

‘I don’t know, did I?’ Philips can’t help backing down a little. ‘What are you gonna do, Bob? Throw me in detention? Are you a big enough man to pick on somebody your own size?’

‘Dad,’ Kurt touches his arm, ‘It’s okay. Not like this.’

Burt takes a breath. He prods Philips in the chest. ‘You’re lucky my kid is tough enough to fight his own battles. Because if it was up to me, I’d be throwing you on that pile of planks right now.’ He gives him a fake-friendly thump on the arm. ‘See you at the game tomorrow, buddy!’

*

The diner’s store cupboard has become a small library, and the diner itself has become the headquarters of the uprising. It’s packed: kids, parents, teachers, everybody is jammed in awkwardly, but they don’t care. The air is full of excited chatter, the buzz of sewing machines and the occasional cloud of glitter that Finn keeps accidentally breathing in. The few kids who had to cover their skin have now smeared most of the makeup off their faces, and Brittany’s lips are completely pink again thanks to a lot of kisses from Santana.

By the end of the night, they’ve made everything they need for tomorrow evening. They feel a little sorry for whoever the visiting team is for the game – they have no idea what they’re in for. Everyone has memorised the timings and know exactly what they’re going to wear and what they’ll be holding. With every detail finalised, they figure they can take a little extra time for a dance party. Turns out Miss Mendoza has got some serious moves.

Amidst the chaos, Kurt takes Blaine’s hand and nods to the door. They weave through the crowd and step outside together.

‘Everything okay?’

Kurt nods. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. You know, a little nervous about tomorrow, but we’ve got a good team. And I don’t just mean for the basketball.’ Blaine smiles. ‘But I’m going to head home. Today was long, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer.’

‘Very true. You’re doing so well, you know that, right? I’m so proud of you. I’m proud to be with you.’

That’s when Blaine sees the extent of Kurt’s exhaustion, and a sadness in his eyes that makes Blaine ache. ‘I hate that you have to leave.’

The cool, night breeze cuts through Blaine. ‘I know. So do I.’

‘I get why. I know it’s the right thing for you, I really do. Look, at first I couldn’t kiss you because of Brittany. Then because I wasn’t ready, then because the timing was wrong, but now… Blaine, it’s already going to hurt so much when you go, and I think if we-’ he pauses, takes a breath while trying not to laugh-cry, ‘If we kiss, then I’m going to fall even more in love with you than I already am, and it’s just going to hurt even more. And I’m so scared.’

Blaine tangles his fingertips with Kurt’s. Their breath mingles into one cloud that floats above them. He doesn’t think he’s felt this kind of cold here before.

‘I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better, Kurt. I’m scared, too. I miss my parents, and I want to go home to them, but when I think about having to say goodbye to you, it just seems impossible.’ Kurt nods. ‘But I know there are other people in the world who don’t even get to feel like this for two weeks, and by some bizarre twist of fate, we did. We are. And I think the only thing worse than leaving you, would be leaving you without ever-’

He stops himself. He leans in slowly enough that Kurt could move away if he wanted, moves his hand up to cup Kurt’s cheek, and waits for the slightest, almost imperceptible nod from Kurt, before closing the gap between them with a kiss. They both melt as soon as their lips touch, pressing closer together, all the worry, the nerves, the fear dissolving. Blaine can feel Kurt smiling against his lips, which makes him smile too, and within seconds they’re both giggling and a little dizzy, their eyes closed.

‘I’m an idiot,’ Kurt whispers. ‘We could’ve been doing that this whole time and I chose not to?’

Blaine laughs, kissing him again. ‘We’ve still got time. Let’s cancel tomorrow and just do this.’

‘I know you’re kidding, but I’m tempted.’

‘If you’re tempted then I’m not kidding.’

Kurt pulls him close, resting his cheek on Blaine’s hair. They both look in the window at everyone in the diner, dancing and singing and laughing. ‘They’re scared too, aren’t they? But it’s not stopping them.’

‘They’re just trusting that the good things will outweigh the fear.’

‘Or maybe they’re not overthinking everything every hour of the day and it means they can just live their lives.’

‘Hey, no,’ another quick kiss, ‘don’t do that. I’m glad you didn’t rush yourself. It shows how much this matters to you. I love that you want to do things right.’

‘But I knew we didn’t have much time-’

Blaine kisses him again, longer and slower this time. They savour it, feeling the warmth of each other’s skin so close, so real. ‘How do you feel right now? How is this,’ another kiss, ‘making you feel?’

Kurt’s cheeks are hot when he looks at Blaine. ‘Good. Wonderful.’

‘Kurt, I’ve done things before I was ready.’ He finds himself looking away from Kurt, focusing on the stars, a tree a few yards away, a rosebush next to them. ‘It never felt as good as this. Usually it didn’t feel good at all. It left me feeling empty and alone. I never want you to feel like that.’ He feels his eyes prickling, his voice faltering, and he realises that maybe he was hurting back home more than he let himself acknowledge. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. ‘The way it’s going to hurt when I have to leave – that shows that this matters. I’m so grateful that you waited until it felt right. If we’d kissed that night at my house, or when you were still with Brittany, maybe it still would’ve felt great, but not as good as this.’

Kurt moves in this time, his hands on Blaine’s waist, as if he can kiss him and hold him close enough to take away all of the pain from his other life. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s cheek, his jaw, his temple.

‘You can talk about it if you want to.’

Blaine sniffs and shakes his head. ‘No. Not here. Here I’ve got you.’ He has to blink a few times to clear his vision. ‘Wait.’ He grabs Kurt’s shoulders and angles him towards the light of the diner. ‘Kurt, look!’ The version of himself that Kurt has been storing inside his head is finally staring back at him, in glowing greens and blues. He’s wanted it for so long now that he feels like he should be screaming, jumping for joy, but right now all that matters is holding his boyfriend as close as possible, trying to undo some of the hurt he’ll probably never understand, showing him that he is more than worthy of softness, kindness, the gentle kind of love that Kurt wants to give him.

He knows that sometimes he gets caught up in his own fragility and he forgets that Blaine has a past, he has damage and pain and he needs reassurance and affection just as much as Kurt, if not more. He walks them over to a bench and they sit, so they can both get their breath back. Kurt wraps his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and they gaze up at the stars for a minute.

‘It will be okay when you leave. I mean, we’ll probably both be a mess at first, but we’ll get through it. We’re both stronger than we think.’

Blaine, nuzzled into Kurt’s side, looks up at him. ‘Yeah?’

‘What we have – you deserve it there, too. It doesn’t make a difference to me what you did or what happened to you before, because I know you. I know the Blaine Anderson who is so kind, and has so much love to give, who can get a whole town to rise up against injustice. You don’t have to tell me anything from before. I just want you believe that you can deal with it, and you can be okay.’

Blaine exhales slowly, shakily, shifting even closer to Kurt.

‘Thank you.’

‘Can I walk you home?’

Blaine glances back to the diner. They look like they could still be going for a while. They’ve got it under control – or at least Santana will make sure they have before she lets them leave.

‘Yes, please. This time tomorrow, all of this could be different.’

‘Or we’ve severely miscalculated, and everything will go back to grey.’

Kurt stands up and offers his arm; Blaine takes it.

‘I don’t think you were ever grey to begin with.’


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine and Santana don’t have to put in as much work as everyone else on Friday morning. When they arrive at school, it’s surprising to see everything is black and white again; only on closer inspection is it visible that some students’ hair is brown or auburn rather than black, some skin has been painted over with makeup, and the majority of the clothes have had to be dug out from the back of closets, forgotten in favour of brighter garments.

‘Oh my god. They’ve gone full Stepford,’ Santana mutters to Blaine. With only one exception, every student has a fake smile plastered over their face, eyes wide and full of mischief, but they are all unmistakably following the rules. No colours. No books. No public displays of affection, until Santana runs over to the one person who isn’t managing to keep up the cheery façade.

‘Brittany? Are you okay?’

Brittany’s voice trembles as she says ‘I don’t like this, Santana. This doesn’t feel good.’

Santana manages to catch a tear with her fingertip before the makeup can smudge.

‘It’s only one day. It’s not even the whole day, remember? Tonight, you’ll be so full of colour you’ll forget you ever had to do this.’ She tugs a lock of hair loose from Brittany’s ponytail to show her the blonde strands. ‘See this?’

Brittany nods. ‘Yeah,’ she mumbles with a sniff.

‘Every time it feels like too much today, just look at this and remember that maybe right now he can control some things, the things on the outside, but there’s so much more that he can’t do anything about.’ She gently tucks the hair behind Brittany’s ear. ‘I know the colour feels like everything, but the feeling it gave you hasn’t gone anywhere.’ She looks around to make sure nobody can see before kissing her cheek. ‘Just hold on for today. I’ll be here the whole time.’

Brittany nods again, a smile emerging. She takes a deep breath. ‘Okay. Just one day.’

‘It’ll be worth it. I promise. And hey – you still think I’m pretty in black and white, right?’

Her smile gets a lot bigger. ‘The prettiest in the whole world.’

Santana laughs. ‘We can be prettiest together. Come on, we’ve got one more day of boredom and cheesiness to survive, then the fun begins. Real fun.’

Philips strides out to the front of the school, a sinister grin on his face as he surveys the students. As much as he would have liked to make an example of someone, give some kid the third degree in front of everyone else to show how serious he is, he’s still pleased to see that no rules are being broken. Grey skin, grey clothes, and a pleasant, calm atmosphere, just as he planned. A handful smile at him as they walk inside – politely? Submissively? He hopes it’s the latter – and he stops Blaine and Santana.

‘Good morning, you two. How are we feeling this morning?’

‘Excellent, thank you, Mr Philips,’ Blaine says, staring him dead in the eye. ‘Much better than yesterday, now that everyone looks exactly the same.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Santana adds. ‘Thank heavens we don’t have to worry about any of that awful creativity now.’

He looks from one to the other for a moment. It could be denial or just blind arrogance, but he seems to buy it. Apparently satisfied, he nods. ‘Very good. On your way.’

They fist-bump as they walk away.

The air is electric all day. The teachers go through the motions every lesson, hopeless liars since they’ve never had to do it before.

‘Yes, and as we all know,’ Miss Robinson says, looking ready to start giggling, ‘there is nothing outside of the town. Our little streets and the school and the diner-’ she genuinely has to bite her lip so she won’t crack up. ‘Just the same as always.’

Miss Mendoza isn’t any more restrained.

‘So kids, today, just like any other day, we’re going to copy out meaningless sentences in pretty writing instead of reading books that could open your eyes to new worlds, and using your imaginations to create your own masterpieces. No ideas in here. Not one.’

Philips glances in and she smiles so sweetly at him, he tells himself he doesn’t need to go in. Really, he just can’t quite muster the courage to face her.

Lunchtime is spooky. Desperate not to give anything away, nobody says a word throughout, smiling too sweetly and making too many enthusiastic ‘mmm’ noises over their food. At the end of the day, they stroll ever so casually until they’re sure they can’t be seen from school, at which point they break out into a full run to the diner to grab their supplies and props for tonight. Brittany scrubs at her face with her sleeve, revealing rosy cheeks and a broad smile.

‘How do I look?’ she asks Santana.

‘You look like you again.’

They stop running for just long enough to kiss until her lips are as flushed as her cheeks.

Back home, Santana and Blaine are ready to leave, their outfits bulky and their skin still grey but tingling with excitement.

‘We’re really doing this, huh?’

‘Come on,’ she says, ‘You know that jackass deserves it.’

‘Oh, I know that. But this could really be it. Tonight we might just, I don’t know, disappear from this place.’

‘Do we have to have this conversation right now? You know we don’t have a choice, B. For all we know, people have been looking for us this whole time. Your parents would be out of their minds if anything happened to you.’

He knows that – he’s always known. They’re never been ambiguous about how much he means to them. And he knows how much Santana misses her sister. But still.

‘What if we don’t get to say goodbye?’

She puts her arm through his for a moment. ‘Then we’ll be sad. And we’ll have to figure out how to be happy without them. It’s not like he doesn’t know how you feel. They all know.’

As if by magic, their parents come in, dressed to the nines – her in a light blue dress, him in a matching tie and a navy suit.

‘Know what, sweetie?’

They look at Mom and Dad, then at each other, before running to grab them into a hug, one parent each. Blaine sniffs over his mother’s shoulder.

‘Well, you two,’ Dad says, ‘I have to say, I really thought you’d be a little more excited. You both look miserable. The world isn’t ending, remember?’

Mom squeezes Blaine’s hand, her eyes bright. ‘It’s all just beginning.’

He nods and smiles – that’s the best thing she could’ve said to him. Leaving them all behind isn’t so scary if they can change the town into something bigger and better than it was when they arrived.

‘You’re both all set for tonight?’ Dad asks. ‘Is there anything else you need us to do?’

‘Nope,’ Santana answers, ‘Running interference on Philips until things get started, then just sit back and watch.’

He grins. ‘We are so proud of everything you two have done. I hope you know that.’

Santana freezes for a moment. For the first time, she can see her real father in him. ‘Yeah, Dad. We know.’

‘Well, we need to get going!’ Mom says, ushering them out. ‘Let’s go, Titans!’

Philips is on the basketball court, smugly welcoming various townspeople to the game. He’s glad to see all students are colourless, even if a few parents aren’t. He knows he can’t control them, but it doesn’t matter as much as securing his power in the school. They’ll win the game in an orderly fashion, and it’ll show that his way is the right way. The only way.

The Andersons are overly polite, considering last night. Mr Anderson pointedly ignores the hand Philips offers him, but they’re both overflowing with small talk about the basketball team, the cheerleaders, skirting around the bigger goings on in the town. Normally he would be somewhere behind the scenes making sure everyone is ready to start on time, but each time he manages to escape two parents, two more take their place, eagerly chatting away to him. He isn’t concerned; if anything, he’s just relieved. He was convinced they would all be a lot more troublesome after yesterday, but it seems he is the man of the moment.

He trusts the kids to know that any funny business will have serious consequences. Surely nobody would dare to go against the rest of the crowd now, right?

Everyone settles into their seats at 6:59, the crowd buzzing as usual. Philips sits front and centre on one of the benches. He takes a few deep breaths. This is all going to be totally normal.

There isn’t much space between the locker rooms and the gym, but it’s rammed with students as Blaine and Santana stand on a bench to address them all one final time. Tina’s skin has almost gone grey again just from nerves. Finn looks ready to throw up.

‘Okay, you’re all so ready for this,’ Santana says with a smile, ‘more ready than you think. It’ll take a lot more than one puny little man to stop us now.’

They give the quietest cheer they can manage. Kurt is just staring at Blaine. He’s smiling, but his face is still somehow serious.

‘You’re so powerful whether we’re here or not. We can’t tell you how proud we are of far you’ve all come,’ Blaine says, looking at Kurt when he adds, ‘You don’t even really need us here anymore. You’ve got this.’

Kurt nods. None of them know how it’s going to happen, but they all know that even though so much is about to change and start all over again, something else is close to ending. But they can’t dwell on it now. It’s 6:59, and they can just about see everyone shuffling to their seats, countless women spreading their wide skirts over the various items stashed underneath the benches.

The cheerleaders go out first. Philips thinks something about them looks different, the uniforms not fitting right, but he tries to brush it off. They’re doing a completely appropriate routine, side-stepping, chanting something about school spirit, and he nods, satisfied. Although, one’s missing. The blonde girl. And their skin – it’s not grey. He’s about to get up and tell them to stop, when the entire gym plunges into darkness.

There’s quiet for a moment, then some hushed whispers, then the marching band starts up, the drums and trumpets pumping out a rhythm that infuriates Philips. He did not approve any of this. A voice calls out over the crowd through the speakers.

‘Students, faculty, parents, and the good people of the great town of Lima, are you ready for the biggest game of your life?’ Puckerman. He’s dead the second Philips can get his hands on him. ‘Let me hear you make some noise!’

The lights come back on, the girls have all removed their grey uniforms to reveal bursts of red and white underneath. The basketball players run out, dribbling orange basketballs which they then hurl at the hoops, everyone missing completely, then whipping off their outer layer of clothing to expose yet more red. All the visiting team can do is sit and stare with their mouths hanging open. Brittany appears from the sidelines, not only wearing the same bright red uniform as the other girls, but doing cartwheels and flips and landing in a split centre stage.

Santana’s boss, with some help from a few dads, has rigged the jukebox up to the school speakers and he presses B7 as planned – The Twist starts to blare out and the crowd goes wild. Right on cue, every audience member pulls a sign out from under their seat, in an array of colours, smothered with glitter, like a class of kindergartners has been let loose in a craft store. Some are innocent enough, like ‘Go Titans!’ and ‘Titan Pride!’ but others are a little more on the nose.

‘Colour = LIFE’

‘LET US HUG’ (Finn’s idea)

And Santana’s favourite:

‘Black and white, time to fight!’

Everyone is cheering. Sam and Mike wheel in a platform, which Mercedes and Rachel step onto, microphones in hand, singing along to the music to get the crowd going even more. The boys get the other team up off the benches to join in – they’re all just dribbling the balls, missing every shot they take, dancing like idiots to the music, and as soon as the new guys join in their uniforms turn blue. However anyone could feel about colour, it undeniably makes it easier to differentiate between teams.

Horrified, Philips gets up, desperate to put a stop to this madness, but his shouts can’t be heard. Between the music, the band, the singing, and the cheering, he’s lost.

He tries to push through the throngs of people everywhere: some cheerleaders are in a pyramid while the others whoop at him and shake their pom poms in his face; the basketball teams are running around as if they’ve had too much sugar, the parents are deafening, but he manages to get to the jukebox and yank the plug out. He storms to Rachel and Mercedes’ platform and grabs their microphones, throwing one to the floor. The squeal of feedback is enough to bring a pause to the pandemonium. Mercedes and Rachel step back, practically cowering.

‘EVERYBODY. STOP. RIGHT. NOW.’

The marching band loses momentum. There are one or two more awkward beats before the noise dies down.

‘Who do you all think you are? You’ve taken what should’ve been a perfectly pleasant evening and you’ve- you’ve-’

‘They’ve had fun!’ Burt yells from the stands. ‘Got a problem with that?’

‘You are all in so much trouble next week! This entire event is cancelled! Get out of my school this instant!’

‘What is your problem?’ Santana asks. ‘You can’t give all of us detention. You can’t change the colour of our skin. You’ve lost. There’s too many of us.’

‘Listen to me, young lady. There is a certain way of doing things. Theirs is a certain way we have always done things. That’s how we keep everything pleasant. That’s how we make sure our town stays nice, just like it’s always been.’

‘No!’ Kurt calls out. ‘There’s better things than nice! There’s scary, and funny, and weird, and stupid. There’s that feeling like you’re about to jump off a cliff, like everything could be different in a second if you just take that one step. There’s fear, and heartbreak,’ he looks at Blaine, ‘and there’s passion. Maybe it’s not always nice. Maybe nice isn’t what we need. We need something different-’ He points at the crowd, full of colour and excitement and still some tinges of fear, ‘We need… this.’

He holds his hand out to Blaine, who takes it instantly.

‘Blaine!’ Puck yells, ‘It’s gone blue!’

Blaine looks at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

Puck points at his own temple, then at Philips. The vein on his head is throbbing, and Puck’s right. Blue.

Blaine lets go of Kurt for a moment and steps towards the principal.

‘How are you feeling right now, Mr P?’ He asks, grinning. Philips is shaking, squeezing the microphone in his hand helplessly.

‘Stop it, Anderson. You are not in charge of this school. I am.’

‘Are you though? Every student in this place conspired to make this happen. All those kids went out of their way to make you look stupid. There’s colour everywhere. Kids have been reading books, learning about new countries, making out in broad daylight! Do you feel nice? Pleasant? Or utterly humiliated?’

‘Young man-’

‘What do you want to do to me right now? I’m totally undermining you in front of your staff, your students, the whole town. I bet you wish you could just strangle me. Punch me right in my smug little face. Because you know we’ve won and it just makes your blood boil, doesn’t it?’

‘YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE-’ everyone gasps, and it echoes around the gym. Philips’ cheeks are bright red, as is his tie. His hair, the roots sweaty, is a light brown, and he’s the last one to realise. He looks at the shocked faces in front of him, before dropping the second microphone to look at his hands. Shaking, he turns them over and back again. He looks up at Blaine again for a moment, and Blaine thinks he might actually try to strangle him, but instead he runs out of the gym.

A cheer erupts in the crowd, kids and adults all hugging and laughing and clapping. Just as the band get ready to start up again, Puck stops them.

‘Everybody, listen! Wait a second…’

There’s a loud bang from outside. Everyone runs out. The sun is just starting to set, and it’s like nothing anyone here has ever seen before – purples and golds and pinks streaking across the sky – and everyone is at a loss for words. They take in more of their surroundings and it clicks: everything is in colour. The sky, the grass, every storefront, every bird, is vibrant and alive and stunning.

Another bang, and this time they are all there to see the huge golden explosion in the sky. Puck is looking very pleased with himself as more fireworks go off over their heads, red, blue, green, violet, each one earning an ‘ooh’ from the crowd beneath. Brittany wraps her arms around Santana’s waist and kisses her cheek as they stare. Blaine kisses Kurt, and he gets lost in the crackles, squeals and bangs of the fireworks, certain that most of them are just his brain reacting to the boy in his arms.

Once Puck’s display ends, the crowd starts to disperse. There’s a whole town full of colour that they want to see, and they break off into small groups, friends, families, couples, to celebrate their victory. Mom and Dad give Blaine, Santana, Kurt and Brittany plenty of hugs and tell them they’ve heard there’s a new place in town called a bar – they’re going there with Kurt’s parents to see what it’s like. Blaine and Santana appreciate that they’ll have space for the evening, but they both low-key hope they get to see their prim and proper parents wasted later.

Mom kisses their cheeks. ‘Have a wonderful evening, you two. Make the most of the time.’

They nod. Mom and Dad’s clothes aren’t the only things matching now – they’re both wearing the same knowing smile. None of them can tell how they understand, but they clearly do. They leave, hand in hand, and Santana takes Brittany home, while Blaine and Kurt head to the park.

‘Are you sure this is what you want? We could go and see the town if you’d rather-’ Brittany stops her with a kiss halfway down the garden path leading to Santana’s house.

‘I want to be with you. Just us for tonight. I can see the town any old time.’

Even after all the work they’ve done to bring colour to this place, she chooses Santana, whose skin is still grey, despite the fiery uniform. Even now, Santana can still barely comprehend someone putting her first. She kisses Brittany again, slowly, softly.

‘You remember when you told me about that feeling you used to get, that you wanted to kiss someone? That you wanted to do other things to see what other feelings could happen?’ Brittany nods. Santana takes her hand and leads her up to the house. ‘I think maybe it’s time I showed you some.’

Wide-eyed, Brittany follows her.

As soon as the front door is closed, Santana presses Brittany up against it. So far, they have kissed hands, cheeks, lips, and there has definitely been heat, but as soon as Brittany feels Santana’s lips against her neck, her collarbone, she’s struggling to catch her breath. Santana grins at the flush creeping up her skin, her heart thudding under her uniform.

She pulls back, making Brittany whine, but one nod at the staircase and Brittany instinctively understands, even though she’s never heard of anything they’re about to do. Every part of her understands that something amazing is going to happen.

They reach Santana’s bedroom just as the skies outside darken, and raindrops start to tap on the windows. It’s just enough to distract Brittany from the hands pressing on her back. She steps towards the window, looking frightened, grasping Santana’s hand.

‘What’s that?’

For half a second, Santana wants to whimper at the lack of warm body against hers, but when she sees the uncertainty in Brittany’s eyes, she knows she needs to take it away.

‘Oh, right. You’ve never – it’s rain. It’s only water, nothing dangerous.’

Brittany steps even closer to the window, her nose pressing against the glass as she tries to get a better look. ‘Will it wash the colours away?’

Santana smiles, wrapping her arms around Brittany’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. ‘No. I think those are here to stay.’

‘Good. Because I actually think it’s kind of pretty.’

She leans against the window, breathing mist onto the glass. Santana reaches up to draw a heart into it.

‘I think you’re kind of pretty.’

Brittany turns in her arms to kiss her again. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘Whatever you want. As much or as little as you want.’

‘I definitely don’t want little. What you were doing before – a lot more of that, please.’

‘Bed.’

Brittany grins wickedly and does as she’s told, reclining on Santana’s narrow bed. Santana gently pushes one leg aside, kneeling between Brittany’s thighs. ‘If you ever start to feel uncomfortable,’ she leans over her, stroking up her waist as she steadies herself with the other, ‘just say the word.’ She kisses Brittany, slowly, deeper than before, her fingertips nudging at the hem of her cheer uniform. ‘If it’s ever too much, I’ll stop whenever you want to.’

Brittany feels heat unfurl in her belly at the glorious, warm weight of the girl now lowering herself onto her.

‘If you ever stop, I’ll – I’ll…’ she kisses Santana back, ‘Okay, I don’t know what I’ll do, but don’t even think about it.’

Brittany is crying out, back arched, toes curling while she clutches at the sheets, by the time the first rumble of thunder arrives.

*

The town is so much bigger and brighter that almost everyone runs off to explore the new streets, the bowling alley, the bars, but Kurt and Blaine choose the intimacy and romance of the park. Despite the sinking feeling that this is their last night together, they’re determined to make it count, and as everyone else would rather see the new places, they’re sure they’ll have this spot, their spot, to themselves.

‘Tonight was incredible,’ Kurt says, his head resting on Blaine’s thigh, each boy dangling one foot in the water from the deck. ‘What were those things Puck set off?’

‘Fireworks,’ Blaine answers, stroking his hair, gazing at the emerging stars reflecting in his eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter where he is, Puck still has a knack for chaos.’

‘You’re one to talk. You made a complete idiot of our principal in front of the entire town.’

‘Was it too much?’

‘God, no. It was…’ There’s something in his face, like if he knew the word “sexy”, he would say it, but he doesn’t quite look comfortable with it. Blaine recognises that look from somewhere, but he can’t figure it out. Maybe he’s just flattering himself. ‘It was incredible.’

Blaine shrugs, pretending the compliment doesn’t make his heart flutter. ‘It was a team effort. You were really something up there tonight. I was so proud to be with you.’ He puts his hand over Kurt’s and leans down to kiss him. It’s different somehow. Normally, Kurt melts into him so easily, but now despite his apparent enthusiasm, his frame stiffens when Blaine touches him. He’s clearly trying to hide it, but there isn’t much Kurt can hide from Blaine.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Mm-hmm!’ Kurt nods a little too quickly, smiles a little too widely. His voice is higher than usual. He pushes himself up from Blaine’s lap and kisses him harder than before. It’s stopped feeling like him and Kurt; it feels like- Kurt flinches back. ‘What was that?’

‘I could ask you the same thing-’

He realises Kurt is looking up, touching his head and looking at his hand. ‘Something just fell on me!’

Blaine feels a drop on his head, too. Then a lot more on his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and both boys scramble to their feet. ‘Kurt-’

‘Blaine, what’s happening? Is something wrong?’

His eyes are darting around in a panic, and Blaine takes his hand. ‘No, it’s fine, it’s just rain. It’s water. It can’t hurt you. Come on,’ he tugs on Kurt’s hand and they both run to a tree for shelter. Kurt still looks terrified.

‘Did we – did we do this? Is this because we changed everything?’

Blaine looks around at the park as it quickly becomes drenched.

‘I guess we did. Looks like this place really isn’t perfect anymore.’ Kurt’s still frowning. ‘I promise, this is okay. Rain is totally normal. It happens all over the world. Look.’ He steps away, directly into the rain, both arms outstretched, palms up. It’s torrential, like a cartoon cloud being unzipped. He can feel the rain soaking through his clothes, and it just makes him laugh. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed rain. ‘See? Just water. Same as a shower, same as the lake.’ He extends a hand. ‘Come out here. It feels great!’ Kurt keeps pressing himself as close to the tree trunk as possible. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘You? Yes. That?’ He points at the downpour. ‘No.’

Blaine snorts.

‘Just try it with me for a minute. Please. I promise I’ll keep you safe.’

Still frowning, Kurt tentatively reaches out to take Blaine’s hand. Blaine pulls him out into the open.

‘This happens a lot where you come from?’

‘Yeah, sometimes. And it doesn’t hurt people. I mean, the occasional slippery road, but we still don’t have that many streets here so I can’t see it being that big a problem. Come on.’

They walk further, unsheltered, clothes sticking to skin. Strands of Kurt’s hair flop forwards, and Blaine pushes them back. Kurt keeps staring around himself.

‘Where does it come from? Does it stop, or does it just stay like this now?’

‘It’ll stop eventually. It comes from…’ he vaguely recalls a diagram from middle school, but decides not to go into it, ‘the sky. It just falls from the sky for a while and then it stops.’

Kurt stretches his arms out, looking up and opening his mouth, as if he needs to feel the rain in every possible way. He even does a little twirl, and before Blaine can stop him, he giggles and starts running.

No. He isn’t going to run. This isn’t a Natasha Bedingfield song. He is absolutely not about to frolic across a park with this boy. Those aren’t his legs moving, his feet splashing in puddles, his laugh ringing out, breathless, among the trees.

‘Ow!’

‘Kurt? Are you okay?’ He runs to where Kurt has fallen, knees and hands caked in mud, and kneels next to him.

Kurt heaves himself up, wheezing with laughter. ‘No, Blaine.’ He stares at Blaine for a moment, deadpan expression, before smearing mud onto his cheek. ‘I’m fantastic.’ He laughs again and flops onto his back in the wet grass. He yanks at Blaine’s shirt and pulled him down beside him and soon they’re both giggling helplessly.

‘So. Rain. Like it?’

Kurt nods, eyes closed, a film of water coating his face. ‘Very much.’ He turns to look at Blaine. He seems to brace himself before leaning over to kiss Blaine again, hard and determined. Blaine still can’t put his finger on why it doesn’t feel right, but he pulls back nonetheless.

‘We should go home.’

Kurt sits up, avoiding Blaine’s eyes. ‘That was bad, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.’

Blaine clambers to his feet, taking Kurt’s hand and pulling him up. ‘No, no, it’s never bad. I just-’ He can’t bear to upset Kurt, not tonight. ‘I just think we need to get dry. It looks like this is only going to get worse.’

‘Oh. Yeah, of course, good idea. Do you want to come back to my house? My parents aren’t home.’

There’s that look again, losing Kurt’s usual softness, a look so familiar but not in this face.

‘Okay. Let’s just try and get warm first.’

Kurt isn’t his usual, happy self, but he smiles anyway, taking Blaine’s hand so they can walk home together.

The walk is easier. They chat, they laugh about the evening’s events, Kurt keeps marvelling at the rain, and by the time they get back to Kurt’s they feel like themselves again. He borrows a set of navy pyjamas, changing in the bathroom to avoid any more weird tension, and returns to Kurt’s room to find him in a lavender pyjama set, sitting on the rug next to the bed, a blanket round his shoulders and two hot chocolates in front of him. It feels so much more natural, more Kurt than earlier.

‘You look so cute and cosy,’ he says, sitting next to him. ‘This is exactly what we needed, don’t you think?’ He leans over to kiss Kurt’s temple, but Kurt turns his head and kisses his lips instead, just like he was in the park. It’s like he has to force himself to do it, and Blaine has to turn away. He puts his hand over his mouth.

He watches Kurt look down at his own knees, wrapping his arms around them to curl himself up as tightly as he can.

It dawns on him where he knows this from. Why it’s so familiar.

He looks exactly how Blaine felt about a year ago.

‘Sorry I keep doing it wrong. I just don’t know how to do it properly, and you won’t try to – do you not want me anymore?’

‘Kurt, that’s crazy; of course I want you. You aren’t doing anything wrong.’ He pulls at Kurt’s hand so he can hold it, and Kurt’s posture loosens up a little. ‘Actually, I’ve done exactly what you’re doing.’

‘Yes, I know, Blaine. I know you’ve been with lots of other boys and done lots of other things that you haven’t done with me. I just don’t understand why, when this is probably the only night we have-’

Blaine moves the mugs so he can shuffle round and sit in front of Kurt. ‘No, listen, Kurt, this isn’t about that. Well, not the way you think. I love that you want to make tonight special. I want that too.’

‘Then why won’t you-’

‘Because you don’t really want to.’

Kurt frowns, looking up at Blaine for a moment before staring down again. ‘How do you know what I want?’

‘Kurt, this should be fun and exciting. Not uncomfortable. Not forced. And I know, because I’ve been where you are right now. You think going further will prove something or make you feel normal or grown up. Or that it’ll make this thing between us more real. But do you know the difference between what I used to do and what’s happening here?’

Kurt is maintaining eye contact now. He shakes his head. ‘What?’

‘The people I was with then didn’t care. They didn’t care that I was unhappy, or they couldn’t tell that deep down I just wanted to leave. Maybe I was just really good at hiding it. But I care. Even if tonight is all we have, all that matters to me is being with you. Running out of time isn’t a good enough reason to do something you don’t feel ready for. I would trade every night with every other guy just to have an extra night holding your hand. I feel more just kissing you than I did doing anything else.’

Kurt’s eyes are glistening. He lets his knees drop and holds both of Blaine’s hands. ‘Really?’

‘I get why it might feel like going further will make us more real. But if you ask me, saying no because you’re not ready makes us as real as all the blossoms, all the birds, all those insane fireworks. As real as that.’ He points to the window just in time for a flash of lightning, which makes Kurt jump. Blaine shuffles round again so he can put his arm around Kurt’s waist.

‘What was that?’ The tremble in his voice makes Blaine pull him closer.

‘It’s lightning. This is just a storm; it’ll pass. I’ll keep you safe.’

Kurt nuzzles into Blaine’s chest and he can feel the tension leaving his shoulders.

‘Do you promise me that if at any point tonight you aren’t 100% enjoying what we’re doing, you’ll let me know? And I’ll promise to do the same?’

Kurt nods, leaning on Blaine’s shoulder. ‘Promise.’

‘Good.’ He ducks his head to catch Kurt’s eye. ‘I really do love you. So much.’

Kurt smiles sheepishly. ‘I love you too. And while we are fully on the same page, and accepting that if it doesn’t go any further it’s fine, can we make out now? Maybe in my bed because I’m still pretty cold from the rain?’

Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt gently, relieved when Kurt stays soft and pliant next to him.

‘What about the hot chocolate?’

Kurt glances at the mugs on the floor.

‘Let it turn into cold chocolate.’

‘New invention. Delicious.’

Kurt sits on the bed, joined quickly by Blaine, who cups his cheek delicately as he kisses him. Kurt kisses back, eagerly but naturally, and crosses his legs toward Blaine so his toes can tease at the fabric over Blaine’s leg. Blaine takes the message, lowering his hand to Kurt’s waist. ‘Is this okay?’ he asks as he pushes gently at the hem of Kurt’s shirt. Just this tiny new contact makes goosebumps erupt over Kurt’s body, and he nods. The hand slides to the small of his back, until they both inhale sharply, chests touching, and Kurt pulls at Blaine’s collar so they’re both lying down, legs tangling awkwardly, both boys giggling.

‘I think – I think I’d like you to take your shirt off. If that’s okay.’

It’s on the floor in seconds.

‘Don’t feel like you have to-’ Blaine kisses him, ‘if you don’t want to.’

Kurt takes a deep breath before looking straight into Blaine’s eyes.

‘I want you to do it.’

Blaine has to bite his lip. The shy assertiveness is divine. He takes his time, kissing slowly down Kurt’s neck and unbuttoning his shirt. Kurt’s fingers tangle in his hair, and he traces over Kurt’s collar bone and down to the softness of his stomach. Every stuttered breath and twitching muscle just pushes him on. Kurt sits up so they can ease his shirt off his shoulders together, but Blaine’s lips don’t leave his.

‘Is this still good?’

Kurt nods. ‘But… but no more than this, okay?’

Blaine can’t stop smiling. He loves seeing the faith in Kurt’s eyes, knowing he is completely trusted to look after him and make him feel safe. ‘Of course. This is perfect.’

Hands touch and explore. Lips whisper and giggle. Pulses race and hairs stand on end. They stay up until the early hours of the morning, sometimes kissing and finding new places to draw moans and gasps out of each other (just above Blaine’s left hip is a spot he wasn’t fully aware of himself before Kurt’s fingertips brush against it – nobody else has ever taken the time before to figure out what really makes him feel good, and this feel exquisite), but sometimes just talking. About the last few weeks. About last night. About their plans for… after.

As dawn crawls into being among the clouds, the weak sunlight lands on the two boys: Blaine’s head on Kurt’s chest, their hands locked together, eyes closed and lips smiling as the rain continues to hammer at the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I know this has taken ages, but I've been back at work and it's been sucking up all my time. I hope this lives up to expectations!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the Big Game.

Blaine doesn’t want to open his eyes. He thinks he might somehow be back at home, and he’ll have to blink himself into consciousness only to end up back in his bed, all alone. Even though he knows that was always the plan, for a few painful seconds he is sure he won’t wake up to Kurt.

Then he feels warmth in front of him, skin against his, and waking up isn’t so scary. He slowly opens his eyes to see light brown hair in front of him, above a pale neck and shoulder. The rain is still going, really blasting the streets now, and Blaine smiles to himself. He had expected a techniclour version of this place to be all blue skies and sunshine, but somehow this is better. With a sigh, he nuzzles into Kurt’s neck and tightens his arm around his waist. Kurt, sleepy and soft and smelling delicious, tilts his head with a smile, allowing Blaine better access with a gentle hum.

‘Morning,’ Kurt whispers, voice still thick with sleep. ‘You’re still here.’

‘I am.’

Kurt shuffles and turns around, and when he does, his eyes light up.

‘Blaine!’

Blaine frowns. ‘What?’

‘Get out. Go,’ he says, shoving Blaine out of bed and clambering out of bed to drag him over to the mirror. ‘Look.’

Blaine stares, open-mouthed, at himself. It’s finally happened. He looks like he used to, his cheeks flushed, his eyes brown, but he’s somehow unrecognisable. And not just because he doesn’t squirm away when Kurt wraps his arms around his waist, smiling at him in the mirror and kissing his cheek.

A crack of thunder makes them both jump. Kurt steps over to the window.

‘Oh, boy. It’s really coming down out there.’

‘I know. I haven’t seen a storm like this since-’ the penny drops. ‘Oh my god.’

‘What?’

‘Kurt, I’m so sorry, but I- I think I have to go.’

Kurt’s smile fades. ‘Oh. You mean, like… _go_ , go?’

Blaine squeezes his lips together and nods. ‘I think so.’

For a moment, the only sound is the rain tapping at the windows. Blaine takes Kurt’s hand, but he pulls it away.

‘Your clothes should be dry by now,’ he says, picking up Blaine’s sweater from the floor. ‘What else did you bring?’

Blaine puts the sweater on, wriggling out of the pyjama pants and stepping into his trousers. ‘Kurt.’

‘Although, I guess it doesn’t matter if you leave something behind.’

‘Kurt, that’s not fair. Would you look at me for a minute?’

‘Don’t you want your shirt?’ Blaine shakes his head. ‘I don’t care about the stuff. You know that.’

Kurt sniffs. ‘Don’t go.’ Until now he’s always been so calm about this; they’ve both known it was coming for so long, but now he seems rattled – no, distraught. Blaine takes the shirt out of his hand and puts it on the bad, stepping closer and putting his hands on Kurt’s hips. He kisses him tenderly, on his lips, his jaw, his cheek. ‘Blaine, I- I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.’

Blaine swallows. If changing his mind were ever possible, this would be the moment to break him – but he knows he can’t. He has so much unfinished business to take care of. He needs to tell his parents the truth. He needs to find a way to be as brave back home as he is here.

‘Kurt, if there’s anything I have learned about you, it’s that you are a lot stronger than you think. You don’t need me.’

‘But what if I just want you here anyway?’

Blaine kisses him again. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

Kurt closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Blaine’s. ‘No, I’m sorry. I knew this was coming. I didn’t want to – this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. There was so much I wanted to say, like how grateful I am that all of this happened, that you came here, how much you’ve changed everything for the better. How much I love you.’

‘You changed it too. Everyone did. All we ever did was give you a nudge.’ He steps into Kurt’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder. ‘And I love you too. I never thought I was even capable of loving anyone like I love you. This is just… something I have to do.’

They stay like that for a minute, breathing each other in and holding on tight.

‘Okay. You need to find Santana.’

Blaine smiles up at him. ‘I’m grateful to you too. I don’t think you know how much you’ve changed me.’ Kurt nods, scared that his voice will waver too much if he tries to talk again. ‘Kurt, I had no idea how unhappy I was until I met you.’ Kurt takes his hand.

They walk downstairs. Blaine slips into his shoes, Kurt pulls a sweater on, and they hug again at the door. ‘I would offer you an umbrella, but we’ve never had to buy one.’

Blaine snorts. ‘The other Blaine has no idea how lucky he’s about to be.’

Kurt clears his throat. ‘I’ll try to be gentle with him. Say hi to other Kurt for me.’

‘I’m sure that won’t get weird. “Just so you know, there’s another version of you and he says hello.” He definitely won’t think I’m crazy.’

‘Hey, people here thought you were crazy at first. They came around.’

Blaine nods. ‘Take care of each other. This will all be so much better if you all stick together.’

‘Do you think we can make Miss Mendoza Principal?’

‘I think she’d be perfect.’

There’s another pause, and another flash of lightning. Kurt yanks Blaine into one last hug. Neither of them can bring themselves to say the word, but they know this is goodbye.

Kurt opens the door, and Blaine steps onto the porch. ‘I love you. Don’t stay out – I don’t want you to get cold.’

‘I love you too. Get home safe.’

Blaine nods, taking a deep breath, and ventures out into the downpour, running so fast he can’t stop and look back.

*

Santana kisses Brittany’s cheek then pads downstairs in a sweater and pants – she’s amazed that pants have appeared in her closet now, even if she would prefer jeans. If she has to wear one more poodle skirt, she may have to set herself on fire. The clothes, and her skin, may still be grey, but this is a step in the right direction.

Dad’s hunched over the stove in his pyjamas and dressing gown, scratching at a frying pan with a spatula and muttering angrily to himself.

‘You okay, Dad?’

He jumps when he hears her.

‘Oh, Santana. I can’t get this – I’m trying to make breakfast for your mother, but I’m making such a mess.’

She laughs. ‘Here, let me-’

He moves the pan out of her reach. ‘No, don’t do it for me. Just show me how. I need to do this myself.’

The determination in his eyes fills her with warmth. ‘Okay. So, let’s just turn down the heat first, so it can’t burn…’

It’s only eggs, and they’re the messiest eggs she’s ever seen, but he’s beaming with pride as he plates everything up to take upstairs. He looks up at her to say thank you, and his mouth falls open.

‘Santana – you’re… you’re-’ She looks down at her hands. Her skin is brown. She runs to the mirror. Her pants are red, her sweater is dark green, and it all looks way too Christmassy and tacky, but she looks like a real person. She feels Dad’s hand in hers. ‘Honey, you look wonderful.’

She suddenly feels sheepish. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She hugs him. ‘I’m really proud of you, you know that?’

‘Thanks, pumpkin.’ He kisses her forehead and goes to make coffee. Santana hears footsteps coming downstairs, and Dad seems to take far longer than necessary so they have some privacy.

Brittany bites her lip when she sees Santana. ‘Oh my goodness.’

She feels her face getting hot. ‘Do I, uh-’ she clears her throat. ‘Do I look pretty?’

Brittany kisses her. ‘You always did.’ Their hands link together. ‘I need to get home; my parents will be wondering where I’ve gone.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you soon.’

Brittany looks deep into her eyes, and once again Santana can’t help but wondering if she is a lot wiser than everyone else thinks. ‘No, you won’t.’

Santana falters. ‘I- I don’t even know if-’

Brittany kisses her again, shutting her up. ‘It’s okay. We both knew this was coming. Someone out there is missing you, and as much as I want to keep you here, I know I can’t.’ She brushes Santana’s hair back, smiling. Santana’s eyes prickle.

‘Thanks for understanding. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not sorry. Not one bit. You and me, we’ll make something amazing wherever we are, even if it’s not together. Although after last night, I’m surprised I can even stand.’

Dad drops a teaspoon in the sink with a loud clatter.

Brittany kisses Santana again. ‘I love you. It’s time for you and Blaine to go home. You’re done fixing this place.’

Santana’s dumbstruck for the first time she can remember. All she can do is wrap her arms around Brittany’s waist, hide her face in her neck for a moment, and let one tear roll down her cheek when she pulls away.

‘I’ll never forget you, Britt.’

Brittany nods and kisses her cheek. ‘No, you won’t. I’m in there forever.’ Santana lets out a teary laugh. ‘Promise me you’ll be kind to yourself, okay?’

Just like that, she leaves. Santana watches from the door, sleeves pulled over her hands, arms wrapped around herself, as Brittany runs through the rain, drenched in seconds, knowing she’ll never see this version of her again. It doesn’t occur to her for a second that maybe Brittany doesn’t care that she’s leaving. Maybe she’s putting on a brave face to make it easier, or maybe she just knows this is how it has to be, but Santana doesn’t question for a moment how much their time together meant to both of them. She flinches when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

‘Are you alright, sweetheart?’

She turns and leans into Dad, letting him hold her up; she hasn’t let anyone hold her like this for so long. She blinks quickly, letting a few more tears fall onto his shoulder.

‘Dad, Blaine and I, we-’

‘Can this wait? I want to get all of this up to your mother before the eggs get cold.’

She nods. ‘Sure. Mom’s really lucky to have you.’

He gives her hand a squeeze before putting the breakfast things on a tray and heading upstairs. She’s only alone for a few seconds before the door opens and Blaine crashes in, soaking wet and panting.

‘Jesus, Blaine, what the-’

There’s a bolt of lightning outside, and a deep rumble of thunder. Still catching his breath, he jabs his thumb behind him in the direction of the window. ‘Storm,’ he manages to pant out.

‘What do you – wait. The storm. Oh my god, of course.’ Blaine’s nodding enthusiastically. ‘A storm brought us here, so now – the diner?’

He clears his throat. ‘I think so. Where are Mom and Dad?’

‘They’re upstairs. He made her breakfast.’

‘Seriously?’

She nods. ‘Minimal assistance from me. B, I don’t think I’ve got another goodbye in me. Can we just go?’

‘Probably for the best. Wait.’ He points at her. ‘Colour. Nice.’

‘You too. Except you look like crap.’

He shrugs. ‘Fair. You will too in a second. Should we at least leave a note?’

‘Yeah, okay, here.’ She hands him paper and a pen.

‘What do I put? Gotta go through a wormhole or whatever, have a good life?’

She sighs and takes the pen.

Mom and Dad,

Thanks for everything. We have to go – if we’re confused when we get home, don’t worry about it. Just remind us about the last couple of weeks. We love you a lot.

S + B

X

‘Is that okay?’

More thunder and lightning make them both jump.

‘I think it’ll have to be. More than this and they’ll think it’s weird. Nothing’ll ever really be enough.’

She nods.

They stand together for a moment, taking a few slow breaths. They don’t need to say anything else. They both nod, before going outside and bursting into a run.

They get about halfway to the diner, soaked to the skin, when Santana stops them.

‘Blaine, stop. I- I don’t wanna go back.’

He stands there, getting wetter and wetter, traces of styling cream (god, it’ll be good to get back to modern hair products) dripping down his cheeks and staring at her. ‘What? Santana, this is all we’ve been talking about since-’

‘No, I don’t mean – I want to go back, of course I do, I need to see if Luna’s okay and- I just don’t wanna go back to how it was. With you and me.’

‘Yeah, neither do I. We both want to be better. That’s a good thing, right?’

‘But I don’t think we can be better with each other. Do you even remember what it used to be like, Blaine? It was terrible. We were miserable, and we made each other worse.’

Blaine still just stands there, understanding starting to dawn. He asks anyway.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was horrible, Blaine. I was mean. I yelled at people who didn’t deserve it. I cut everyone out except you because you’re as unhappy as I am. And you – you’re just this sad, scared, lonely boy who’d rather throw himself around like you’re nothing than just be honest and vulnerable. I know you hate it. I know you’re unhappy. But I never say anything. And you never call me out on my crap, either. We’re enablers. We drag each other down because… I don’t know, because it’s easier just staying unhappy together than trying to make a change.’

Blaine breathes out a single laugh, incredulous. ‘Are you breaking up with me?’

She just stares at him, shivering.

‘Oh my god, you are.’ They stand for a moment, the only sound the hammering of the rain around them. ‘After all of this, you just, what – don’t want to see me any more?’

She sniffs and looks around herself. ‘We should go.’

‘Fine. We’ll go back and you can find better friends who magically make you nice.’

They run the rest of the way to the diner. Santana stares straight ahead, but Blaine catches the occasional glance at her. He doesn’t understand why she’s so mad at him. It keeps eating at him until they reach the diner, and before they go in he grabs her wrist and stops them.

‘No. No, Jesus, Santana, we can’t go back like this. Can you even see how fucked this is? You’ve been my sister here, like really my sister, and I thought you would be my sister out there too. You want a friend who’ll call you out on your crap? Okay, I’ll be that friend. You’re mean. You’re furious at the world but you take it out on all the wrong people.’ She pulls her hand away, but doesn’t move inside. ‘Brittany wanted to do something fun in a group project and you cut her down. Some dumb kid asked you out, and I know it was annoying, but the guy didn’t even know you were gay, and he apologised, but you still ripped him to shreds. And Mrs Hawkins? She took a risk being honest with a class full of idiots, because she wants to make life easier for people like us. A few years ago, she would’ve got fired for that. You acted like she was a monster, but you should’ve been saying thank you. We both should.’

‘What if we go back to being those people? I don’t want to get home and become that again.’

‘Well, I didn’t think new Santana would take that shot at me, but you did. And hell, you’re right. I was miserable back home. I was lonely, and sad, and just so full of shit and fake confidence when I’m really just a kid who can’t tell his parents he’s gay. There, I can say it now, I’m gay, I’m gay, _I’m gay_. I don’t think I ever said it out loud before. Back home we were both mean because we were scared. And I thought we’d moved past that together. Maybe you’re still a coward.’

‘Anything else?’

Blaine pauses. The other things are tiny compared to the one he’s been holding back.

‘Your dad is depressed, Santana. I know he’s failing you, and it’s shit, and it’s so unfair that you’ve had to pick up the slack for so long, but it isn’t because he doesn’t care, or because he doesn’t love you. It’s because he’s drowning. He needs help. Maybe you think it’s better to just take over the house stuff and to look after Luna, because you don’t trust him not to mess up again. But if you don’t try and work together, it’s never going to get better. Aren’t you exhausted? Aren’t you tired of being a student and a waitress and a parent all on top of punishing him? Don’t you wish you could just be a big sister again?’

She can barely look at him. Her face is crumpled and her tears mix with the rain on her cheeks. She takes a shaky breath and nods.

‘What if he lets us down again?’

He takes both of her hands in his.

‘Then at least you’ve got a big gay brother to help look out for you.’ She laughs, pushing damp strands of hair back from her face. ‘I mean, back home I was trying to stop myself from feeling anything, but here I held hands with Kurt and thought I was going to collapse. Look at what we’ve just been through together! If this doesn’t prove we can both change, I don’t know what will. I want to do things differently. Even though it might make my parents cry or feel sorry for me or look at me differently, and it might mean I end up in a club full of dorks and it’s definitely going to feel uncomfortable and embarrassing and everything I’ve avoided feeling for a long time, but maybe I’ll get to be happy at the end of all that. I really think I can do it. We did so much here, together. The only thing that would make it all truly unbearable is doing it without my best friend. My sister.’

She’s looking at the floor, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

‘Do you really think I can do it? Be nice? Even to him?’

He grins. ‘What got you into colour?’

‘How’d you know?’

‘There’s no way Dad made Mom breakfast without any help.’

She smiles. ‘What did it for you? It can’t be a sex thing.’

‘I think it was the opposite. We just stayed up talking and, you know, making out, and when I woke up – this.’

‘So all we needed to do was have a sleepover and be nice to Dad?’

He shrugs. ‘I think that was just… the conclusion. Part of a bigger picture.’

‘Better be, or that was a whole lot of fuss over nothing.’

The correction, the fact that this was far from nothing, goes unsaid.

‘So,’ he says, ‘shall we?’ She tentatively steps forward and hugs him. ‘Oh. Okay.’

‘Have we ever done this before?’

‘Don’t think so.’

They pause, still hugging. ‘It’s weird,’ she says, ‘but I don’t hate it.’

‘Maybe we can do this more back home. One hug a week.’

She grimaces. ‘Month.’

He laughs. ‘Deal. Let’s go.’

They go into the diner. The manager tries to argue that it’s not open yet, that Santana isn’t working today, but they placate him and go into the cupboard. They take one last look out before locking their hands together and closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know about you but I am currently being broken by life. Hopefully this can be a nice break for you guys too. I had planned to go further in this chapter, but this felt like a good place to end. Hopefully it won't be too long til I can post more!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine and Santana think they’ve figured out how to get home - but they don’t know if it’s worked, or what they’ll do if it has.

They can still hear rain.

‘Do you think it worked?’

Blaine shrugs. ‘We won’t know until we go outside.’ He snorts. ‘Oh, god.’

‘What? What could you possibly be laughing at right now? This is serious, this is the moment that determines if we ever see our families again-’

‘No, I know, but – we have to come out of the closet. Sorry. I hate my brain.’

They sit in the dark a little longer, laughing to themselves quietly.

‘I hate it too.’ She runs her hand through her hair without thinking. ‘Oh my god. Blaine, Blaine, feel my hair.’ Before he can object, she grabs his hand and pushes it into her hair. ‘It’s straight.’ She touches her thigh, then his. ‘Denim! Blaine, we’re in jeans!’

He scrambles to his feet, pulling her up with him. She grabs the door and pulls it open. It’s dark, and it’s still raining, but… it’s now. It’s the café, the tatty chairs, the register, and for a moment they’re both silently disappointed. Blaine’s shoulders sag, and Santana sighs deeply.

Blaine reaches for his phone.

‘Same date as when we left.’

She nods. ‘That’s good.’ She glances over at his screen. ‘Any new matches?’

‘Very funny.’ He taps through to delete a handful of apps, tilting the screen out of Santana’s eyeline. The thought of using them now makes him cringe. ‘So. Now what?’

‘We go home, I guess.’

‘We try to be happy.’

She looks at him, taking another deep breath. ‘This is going to be hard, isn’t it?’

‘Surely we’ve done harder things by now.’

She smiles, even though they know this will be a different kind of difficult. This is real life, with their real families, and finally telling the truth. ‘Need a ride home? I need to lock up first-’

‘It’s okay. I think I’ll walk. Plan what I’m going to say.’

‘Fair. Let me know how it goes?’

He nods. ‘I’ll text you later. Oh, technology, can’t wait to get addicted to you again.’

‘Really, though. If anything goes – I can come and get you and feed you chocolate at my place.’

Blaine’s stomach churns. He’s prepared to feel vulnerable and small and nervous, but the thought of it going really badly makes him feel sick. Thank god Santana is still there, smiling at him. ‘Okay, could you actually drive me home and then just… wait outside? Until I let you know it’s all right?’

She takes his hand. ‘Let’s go. You can plan your speech in the car.’

He barely says a word the whole journey, forcing her to fill the silence: ‘It’s going to be fine. They think the sun shines out of your ass. If my dad can deal with my gayness, then your woke-as-fuck parents definitely can. They’ll be organising a Lima Pride march by next week.’ He nods, unable to force a smile. She almost ends up shoving him out of the car when they arrive, after ten minutes waiting at the end of the driveway.

‘You promise you won’t go anywhere?’

She nods. ‘Not until you give me the signal. Jazz hands or a high kick or whatever.’

He waits on the porch until the rain has soaked through his clothes, his key waiting in the lock, until he finally turns it.

Blaine’s mother sees him from the couch and frowns. She eases herself to her feet carefully, trying not to wake his father.

‘Honey, you’re soaked. I didn’t even know you’d gone out. Where have you been? It’s late, anything could’ve happened-’

‘I need to talk to you. Both of you.’

She senses that this won’t wait until the morning.

‘Okay. Do you want me to wake your father?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll do it. This needs to come from me.’

Her brow furrows further, and she touches his arm. ‘I’m getting you a towel. However important this is, it’s not worth hypothermia.’

He sits next to his father on the couch, and the dip in the cushion is enough to stir him awake.

‘Blaine?’ He blinks a few times, and his expression quickly matches his wife’s. ‘Son, where have you been? Why are you so wet-’ he checks the clock, ‘it’s almost midnight. Were you out in the storm?’ He places a warm palm on Blaine’s forehead. ‘It’s not good for you to be out in rain like this, you’ll catch your death.’ He clocks Blaine’s face under the dripping curls, his refusal to make eye contact. ‘Blaine, what’s wrong?’

The concern in his voice makes Blaine’s insides twist painfully, and the barrage of questions leaves his head spinning.

‘Nothing’s wrong, Dad. I just want to talk to you and Mom about something.’

His father shifts to sit up properly, rubbing the dregs of sleep from his eyes. He senses Blaine’s tension and the questions stop. ‘Okay. That’s fine, whatever you want. Wait, should I get you a towel?’

His mother comes back in then, with a warm towel and a fluffy robe to drape over him. ‘It’s your dad’s. I didn’t want to go into your room, you know, in case you didn’t want me to.’

She sits next to him. He wonders if they’re trying to guess what he’s about to say. Maybe they’ve known this for months. Years. Maybe they think he’s on drugs. Maybe they’re bracing themselves for him to reveal a pregnant girlfriend. At least if that’s what they’re thinking, this can only end in relief.

‘Baby, you look worried. Whatever it is, it’s okay, I promise.’

He stares into his mother’s and father’s eyes in turn. He wants to remember the way they look at him now, just in case that look goes away. His father holds his hand. His mother scrubs gently at his hair with the towel. With the robe wrapped round his shoulders he feels like he’s 4 and they’ve just got him out of the bath. The only sound in the room is the dying crackle of the fireplace.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

‘I’m gay. I’m gay. I don’t know why I said it twice. I’m sorry I, you know, didn’t tell you sooner, I just-’

He feels each hand being held by a parent. His mother pulls him close, and he goes limp, letting her hold him, still stroking his hair through the towel, pressing kisses to his forehead.

‘Oh, darling. You don’t have to be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘We’re so glad you’ve told us, sweetheart,’ his father says, leaning forward so he can look Blaine in the eyes. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it took. But you don’t have to keep any secrets from us.’

Blaine can barely remember what questions he was expecting – how long has he known, did he think they would be angry, does he have a boyfriend… he has no idea how he would’ve answered that one anyway. The questions don’t come.

‘You’re perfect, Blaine. Nothing could stop us from thinking you’re the best kid in the whole world, and definitely not this. You’re still the little baby I held the night you were born. A lot like this, actually.’

He laughs, his shoulders sagging with relief.

‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you for trusting us.’ His father wipes a tear from Blaine’s cheek, ignoring the rogue one rolling down to his own chin. ‘I hope you know this already, but I’m going to say it just in case: we love you. We will always love you. Unless you murder somebody or something. No, probably still even then.’

‘Okay, Daniel, I think he gets it.’

Blaine keeps blinking tears out of his eyes and pushes himself to sit upright. ‘Hold on. I need to do something.’

He shuffles to the front door, opening it to see Santana staring intensely at the house. She raises her eyebrows at him. He nods, smiling, albeit through a few sniffs. She gives a thumbs up, quickly cringing at herself, then drives away. He walks back to the couch.

‘Santana?’ his mom asks. He nods. ‘Good. I’m glad you two are still friends. It must help to have other friends who are, you know, on your team.’

‘You know about Santana?’

‘Well, she’s dropped a few hints here and there. You were clearly never interested in each other romantically, and you’re a very handsome boy, so her being a lesbian always made more sense to me.’

‘Okay, Stephanie, I think he gets it.’ His father smirks at his mother, and she scowls back playfully. He feels more at home with them than he has in so long, and pointless as it may be, he can’t help wishing he’d done this much sooner.

‘Can I ask you guys something?’

‘Of course.’

‘But if it’s sexual, I might need to do some research before I can give you a full answer.’

‘No, Mom, it’s not – did you already know? About me?’

They glance at each other, shrugging slightly.

‘We always tried not to assume either way.’

‘Blaine,’ his father says, a hand on his shoulder, ‘most parents fantasize about their kids bringing a date home for the first time. We’ve talked about it, but we tried to keep it gender neutral. Not he or she, just they.’

He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. They’ve always been like this. Cooper brought home some real messes and they always had the benefit of the doubt. Every time they’d seen a gay character on TV, they always said ‘good for them’ and ‘thank goodness the world is seeing sense now’. Despite how terrified he was ten minutes ago, Blaine is now so relieved he doesn’t know what to do, so he cries. He cries for the scared kid keeping a huge secret, for the teenager who knew far too much too young, for the lonely, lost man he could’ve become. After hours of crying and talking and more crying, he doesn’t argue when his parents tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. It feels like he’s getting a second chance at being young and innocent, and he chooses to relish it. Every night of coming home feeling dirty and used disappears, and he’s a little boy being looked after by his mom and dad. He sleeps better than he has since his fifteenth birthday.

*

Santana looks up to their apartment. She’s not looking forward to what she needs to do, but she can’t stop smiling for Blaine. He’s spent so long acting like he doesn’t care what anyone thinks, but she always knew how much his parents’ approval means to him. If he can do that, she can do this.

It’s quiet inside, other than the muffled sound of the TV. Dad’s asleep on the couch, the volume turned way down so as not to wake Luna. She spots a half-full glass of clear liquid on the floor next to him, and she takes a sip, some concern edging into her mind. It’s water. Thank god. She can’t deal with him having a drinking problem, too.

She gives him a nudge. ‘Come on, big guy. Your bed might get jealous.’

He smiles when he sees her, calmly complying with her instructions. ‘Hi, honey. How was school? Or work?’

‘Both were fine. How awake are you?’

‘Not very.’

‘Well, I still want you to listen to me carefully.’

He frowns, stands up straight and looks at her properly. ‘What’s wrong?’

Old Santana would’ve said ‘everything’, but this Santana doesn’t. ‘It’s not about wrong. I just want us to make a plan in the morning. We’re going to make things better, okay? And we’re going to do it together.’

He registers her tone, different to anything he’s heard from her in a long time. He looks very serious, and nods. ‘Right. Okay.’ He pauses before he goes into his bedroom. ‘I love you, kid. You know that, right?’

She expects to have to fight back an involuntary eye-roll or a cutting retort. Nothing comes.

‘I love you too, Dad.’

She goes into Luna’s room and kneels next to her bed, stroking her hair, and before she can stop herself, she’s crying. She tries to bury her face in Luna’s bedding, but it’s not enough to muffle the sound.

‘Tana? What’s wrong?’

Luna puts a hand on her cheek, wiping tears away with her thumb.

‘Nothing’s wrong, Lulu. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Then don’t cry.’

‘I just missed you so much.’

Luna gives her a confused look. ‘You’ve only been at work for a few hours.’

She laughs. ‘It felt much longer.’

Luna puts her hand on Santana’s. ‘Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?’

She nods, and crawls in beside her baby sister, hugging her tight before finally getting a good night’s sleep, knowing she’s okay.

*

She’s waiting for her father in the morning, with a pen and paper on the table in front of her. There’s coffee and toast ready for him. It’s the earliest he’s been up in weeks, but he’s showered and dressed to show her he’s ready to try.

Half an hour later, before Luna’s up, they’ve created a list of what he’s going to get done today. They’ve already ticked some off – shower, dress, breakfast – and there are some more that he’s going to complete while she’s at school: clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, do some laundry. The last item is one she’s going to help him with when she gets home. Make an appointment with a therapist.

The only emotions Santana has shown in front of her father for years have been frustration, annoyance, even disdain, but not this morning.

‘Santana, thank you for all of this. I know I’ve been letting you girls down for too long. I shouldn’t need you to do this for me, but… but I’m really grateful that you have.’

‘It wasn’t fair that I was so angry with you for such a long time. You didn’t deserve it. She’s the one who left. You could have spent the last six years telling us how awful she was for leaving, but you didn’t. And I could’ve tried harder to notice what was happening with you.’

‘No. It’s not your job to take care of me. You’re the kid. Your job is to go to school, have crushes on girls, be a cheerleader or something, not take care of me and your sister. But you did it anyway. And now you’re still helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you the last few years and I won’t let you feel guilty for not doing more.’ He takes her hand. ‘I’m going to do this. I’m going to be better for both of you. For me.’

For the first time since she can remember, she cries a little in front of him. ‘We’re both going to do this. Okay, I’m going to get Luna’s breakfast.’

‘No, you’re not. I’ll take care of your sister. You’re going to listen to loud music in your bedroom or go shoplifting or something else cool teenagers do.’

She laughs. ‘That sounds like a lot of work. How about I have another coffee with you guys?’

‘Perfect.’ He gets up and pours her another cup before pulling her to his chest for a hug. ‘I’m a very lucky man. Thank you, Tana.’

She hugs him back, letting herself be held, feeling tiny again.

*

The walk to school seems to take forever. They’re both so exhausted they can barely move, never mind catch up on the night’s events. Santana puts some big headphones on Luna and gets her bopping to Little Mix so they can talk properly.

‘And they took it all okay?’

‘We all cried. Mostly me. They got really worried about me, and it was probably justified. Mom asked me if I was safe, and I said yes but I know it wasn’t totally true, so long story short I am getting an STD screening on Friday. And my dad’s getting tested too so I don’t have to go by myself. It’s sweet in the kind of way that makes me want to die.’

‘Why does your dad have to do a test if he’s a grown-up?’

‘Luna, play the next song.’

‘Okay.’

‘Holy crap, B.’

‘And they want me to go to therapy. No, no,’ he says when Santana looks horrified, ‘not that kind of therapy. Just like, talking to someone to deal with what Dad referred to as my messed-up self-esteem and internalised homophobia. Which actually makes a lot of sense, even though I hadn’t realised it before.’

‘Well, you do hate yourself.’

‘I mean, I know I’ve got a lot better the last few weeks, but I couldn’t explain why, and I don’t want to get back into old habits. It makes sense to talk things through with somebody.’

‘Well, let me know if you get someone good. Dad and I agreed to find somebody for him to talk to as well.’

‘Oh, really? Tana, that’s great!’

‘Yeah, it should be. And this morning he was fully dressed before breakfast. Funny how not telling him he sucks makes it easier for him to do better.’

‘It’s okay that you were mad at him.’

‘That’s what he said. Anyway, we came up with stuff he can get done today, so hopefully he can start to feel like he’s doing something good. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it feels like a start. And it’s not just me doing everything for him.’

‘I feel like we could justify taking a personal day today. Just call school and say “sorry, I think I’ve been time-travelling and now I’m working through a bunch of trauma in a sensible, mature way, so I’m not going to make it in. See you tomorrow.” Then we wouldn’t have to do the next part.’

‘I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I have the _weirdest_ feeling that won’t cut it. Anyway, now is supposed to be the fun bit, right? You get to see Kurt, I get to see Brittany.’

‘We get to see the versions of them that still think we’re garbage.’

‘True. But they’re the same people, right? I don’t know about Kurt, but the more Brittany grew when we were there, the more she reminded me of the Brittany I knew before.’

He thinks about it. He doesn’t really know modern Kurt that well, but he knows he’s confident, kind, passionate, eager to make the world a better place… a lot like the Kurt he got to know over the last few weeks. And he’s famous for his bold outfit choices. The main difference between there and here is Blaine. There he was appropriate, polite, not a creep. He’s managed to cut the bullshit at home, so maybe he can do it at school and be the Blaine he actually enjoyed being.

They keep their heads down for most of the day. They’re both too nervous to talk to Brittany or Kurt, and it’s easy because neither will make eye contact with them after yesterday. They hadn’t realised just how sad their school life was before they’d had a taste of getting involved and being popular. Now it feels truly pathetic. But it’s okay – they’ve chosen the right time to talk to them properly.

At the end of the day, they make their way to Mrs Hawkins’ room. There’s a mix of kids in there, freshmen up to seniors, lots of wild hair colours, the younger students chattering excitedly among themselves.

Mrs Hawkins’ face lights up when she sees them, sending a pang of guilt through Santana. ‘New members! Welcome, both of you!’ They take a seat, and everyone introduces themselves, including the teacher, stating their pronouns. A couple of kids specify that their pronouns in here are different to their pronouns elsewhere, because this is the only place they feel safe enough to be out, or even because they’re just trying out a new name in here before they tell anyone else. Blaine is trying so hard to be visibly earnest that he forgets to say his pronouns until a sophomore reminds him. He apologises profusely, his skin burning. He starts to miss being grey.

‘Okay, as you can see, we’re creating a display of our personal LGBT+ heroes. It can be whoever you want, but we don’t want twenty Ellens. Try and make some diverse choices, people.’ She speaks to Santana and Blaine quietly while everyone else gets to work. ‘If you want to stay together, that’s fine, but this can be a great space to make new friends. You might want to try and sit next to somebody you don’t know very well. I’m sure some of the younger members would be more than happy to make you feel welcome.’

They nod, each drifting tentatively towards a group. It’s a funny balance – they’ve all been in this club since the first week of school, but very few have experienced anything more than a crush. Blaine and Santana are more experienced than them in a lot of ways, but in this room they feel clueless. The others share stories of coming out, and explain how this club helped them feel brave enough to do it, and when Blaine explains that he came out to his parents last night, they all scream and ask him a thousand questions. He doesn’t notice Kurt glancing at him from his computer, and Santana doesn’t notice Brittany walking over to her group.

‘You seem sad today.’

‘What? I didn’t think you would want to talk to me.’

Britt shrugs. ‘I didn’t. But I hate it when you’re sad. I think I hate you being sad more than I hate me being sad. So now I’m double sad. And I think maybe if you’re sad, that’s probably why you yelled at me yesterday.’

‘I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Britt, I’ve just got a lot going on right now – but it still wasn’t fair to take it out on you. You just wanted to make our presentation fun.’

‘But you’ve got a job, and you’ve got to take care of your sister. We’ll work on something more simple.’ Her smile is so gentle it almost sets Santana off crying again. She’s never treated herself with this much kindness here before; she doesn’t know how to react to it from her. She swallows past the lump in her throat and nods. Brittany senses that Santana needs a change of subject. ‘But it’s so cool that you’re joining the club! It’s so fun, and the younger kids think we’re super wise and they just love talking about how gay they are.’

Santana laughs. ‘Well, that sounds fun.’

‘And you know… maybe it means we can see each other more. Without all the other girls. We could even go for coffee afterwards if you want. Just to talk about it in private or whatever.’

They both smile.

‘Um, yeah. I’d love that. Thanks, Britt.’

Their pinkies lock together under the table.

Blaine works with the younger students for the whole hour, recounting his coming out story, answering lots of questions, floundering when they ask him for advice as an older gay teen. All he knows how to do is keep it a secret and have a breakdown. He doubts Mrs Hawkins will approve of him giving them advice on how to guarantee a Grindr hookup. For a moment, he thinks he catches a glimpse of Kurt laughing, but he can’t be sure without making it obvious that he’s looking, and he wants Kurt to know that he’s come here to get involved and be part of the community, not just to bother him.

By 4 o’clock, they’ve listened to a lot of Troye Sivan and put together a display with lots of Drag Race stars, the Queer Eye guys and Stephanie Beatriz, and Blaine feels utterly exhausted. But he’s ready to keep coming back so he can show Kurt he’s not a jackass, and maybe gradually build up to an actual conversation with him. But the two of them are the last people there aside from Mrs Hawkins when the rest leave. Santana gives Blaine a ‘you okay?’ look from the door, but he nods so she can run away with Brittany.

‘I never thought I’d see you here.’

Blaine shrugs, nervous even to make eye contact with Kurt. He perches on the edge of a table and Kurt stands facing him, leaning against a wall. Mrs Hawkins gets up.

‘I need to go and get my printing done for tomorrow’s classes. You two take your time.’ She scuttles away, obviously wanting to give them a moment, and if anything, it makes Blaine feel even more embarrassed and awkward.

‘You made it sound nice. And I’m trying something new. Trying to be… different.’

‘I don’t think you need to _be_ different. You could just _act_ a little differently. Maybe don’t talk to people at school like you’re at a gay bar.’

Blaine nods, knowing he hasn’t got a leg to stand on. ‘Yeah. I wanted to apologise about that.’

‘I’m ready.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I thought that was an okay thing to say-’

Kurt’s face gets a little softer. ‘Did you really just come out last night? To your parents?’

He nods. ‘All part of the same process. You’re right – it’s not about being different. It’s about being more honest. The way I spoke to you yesterday, that was me trying to be different. I’m mortified about it.’

‘Is that how you talk to other guys? On, like, apps and stuff? God, you know what – don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.’

Blaine’s gaze is fixed firmly on his shoes.

‘It’s fine. It’s easy to copy it after a while.’

Kurt watches Blaine for a moment, the way he picks at his sleeve and how he carries himself so differently to yesterday. He wonders for a beat if it’s an act, part of a more elaborate scheme to trick Kurt into something, but it just can’t be.

‘Do you want to go for a walk? It’s stuffy in here. You look like you need some fresh air.’

Blaine makes himself look up at Kurt and make proper eye contact. He expects it to sting, to be full of suspicion and irritation, but it’s all softness and understanding. He swallows and nods.

‘That sounds good.’

They get coffee to go and walk through the park – nowhere near as pretty as the last one Blaine was in, but there’s satisfaction in the crunch of orange and brown leaves underfoot and after weeks of solid grey sunshine it’s nice to feel a chill. They talk, never fully delving into the depths of Blaine’s past, but discussing their exasperation with straight people, Blaine’s friendship with Santana, the vibe between her and Brittany, and it’s such a relief. Here, the only conversations he’s had with other gay guys have been full of innuendo and suggestion rather than just chatting about everyday things. Of course, it’s not like it was with Kurt before: this Kurt knows he’s gay, and knows so clearly who he is, which shifts the dynamic between them, but Blaine doesn’t hate it. It’s easier in a way, now that he doesn’t have to explain anything, or have the pressure of being Kurt’s introduction to so many ideas. They’re on more even ground. Blaine hadn’t even noticed his fear that he would just be too fixated on that perfect connection to make any more here, but it’s unfounded. They sit on a bench for a while, not minding that their butts get damp, laughing at the kids playing on the jungle gym. 

‘Don’t get me wrong, I probably wouldn’t hang out with most of them if it weren’t for the club. So many pop culture references go completely over their heads. The only showtunes they know are from The Greatest Showman, and there’s only so many times I can listen to This is Me.’

‘Yeesh. That’s understandable.’

‘The only overlap in our Venn diagram of interests is Lady Gaga. But I know if I’d had an older gay kid to look up to when I was that age, it would’ve been way less scary coming to terms with who I was. So I keep going and doing those little projects so I can help them feel safe. And obviously talk about Golden Girls with Mrs Hawkins.’

‘Obviously.’

‘She’s actually incredible. I told my dad there’s an openly bi teacher at school and he said that would’ve been unimaginable when he was a kid. She probably would’ve gotten fired for that thirty years ago.’

Blaine smiles. ‘Well, I’ve never seen Golden Girls, but my Broadway knowledge is decent. I can keep coming if it helps you stay sane.’

He’s not sure, but he thinks he can see a coy smile tugging at Kurt’s lips.

‘I’d appreciate it. Also, you categorically _need_ to see Golden Girls. Specifically, you need to see it with my commentary. I know I don’t know Santana that well, but she is such a Dorothy it’s not even funny.’

‘That would be great. And I probably need more friends than just Santana, right?’

Kurt pauses. ‘Mm-hmm. Yes.’

‘Oh, sorry- did I say something wrong?’

Kurt sighs. ‘No. I guess I was just low-key hoping you’d hit on me again, just in a less graphic way than yesterday. But hey, friends is fine.’

‘No, no, I don’t- uh-’ he shifts on the bench to face Kurt properly, and Kurt smiles at him properly this time. ‘Sorry. Kurt, would you like to, maybe, go on a date with me some time? Even if that date is watching Golden Girls at your house? And I can stay three feet apart at all times if it would make you more comfortable.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ He slips his hand into Blaine’s pocket and picks up his hand to unlock it before putting his number in with no name except the flamenco dancer emoji. ‘I need to get home. It’s my turn to make dinner tonight. But text me, and we’ll figure it out.’

Blaine walks Kurt home, even though it’s way out of his way.

‘Thanks for this, Kurt.’

‘Hey, you bought the coffee.’

‘I mean for today. For even considering talking to me after I was so gross.’

Kurt shrugs one shoulder. ‘I taught my dad who Patti LuPone is, I can definitely give you some pointers on how to be a decent human being. And it was fun. I don’t know if you knew this, but you’re actually pretty cute. That’s why I wanted you to come to the club in the first place.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Mmm. Something about the triangular eyebrows, maybe.’

Blaine doesn’t know what to say in return. A joke about the black Doritos balanced on his forehead. What he really wants to say is that he thinks Kurt might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. Even though he wants to be more honest, he also doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s going to start climbing in his window while he’s asleep or anything. And he’s not in any hurry to speed to the finish line with Kurt. They’ve got so much time.

‘I’ll take it.’

Smiling, Kurt tilts his head slightly and Blaine realises he’s offering his cheek. He lets his fingertips touch Kurt’s as he reaches up, stretching onto his toes a little, until his lips touch Kurt’s skin. When he pulls away he can see Kurt barely containing his excitement, his cheeks quickly turning pink.

It’s only for a second, but Blaine can feel the soft warmth of that cheek lingering around him for hours afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas holiday means time to write! Finally! I'm really hoping I can get the final chapter done before I go back to work, but if it takes longer than that it's only because I want to get it right. I promise this story will be finished. I will never abandon these kids. Thanks again for your patience and for following along, and I hope this chapter keeps you going until I post the end!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at before and after Blaine and Santana's adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets intense. Warnings for suggested non-consensual sex involving a minor. I really hope it doesn't upset anybody and that I've handled it appropriately and sensitively. I've used a lot of my own experiences with therapy in this chapter, too, but it is ultimately about healing.

_**Before** _

Santana rarely goes to parties, but she’s glad Blaine convinced her this time. Usually, she would smash down his idea, but she figured a certain cheerleader would be there, along with a substantial amount of alcohol. She and Brittany have been exchanging glances, kept getting paired together in class, and the way that girl laughed just does something to her. But it’s nothing compared to what she’s doing to her right now.

They’re in the bedroom of someone’s older sister who’s off at college, bass thrumming through the floor, and Britt’s fingertips are slowly teasing at the hem of her shirt as she trails kisses down her neck.

She’s seen other girls at school go crazy for boys, and never really understood it before. The feeling of this girl on top of her, weight settled over her, whispering ‘you’re so hot’ into her ear – she gets it. She understands every girl who’s dumbed herself down, gone weak in the knees, risked getting crabs for some stupid boy. Obviously, she would never feel like this with one of those meatheads sucking bruises into her collarbone, but with Brittany, she can feel herself melting, weakening, and she doesn’t care. Her skin is buzzing with the pleasure of it all.

No. Wait.

‘Is that you?’

‘What?’

‘Oh, god-’ She fumbles for her phone with every intention of shutting it off, but it’s her dad. She’s got seventeen missed calls from him too. He knows she’s at a party, and just how much of an anomaly that is, and wouldn’t bother her this far before curfew if it wasn’t important. ‘I’m sorry; it could be an emergency.’

‘It’s fine,’ Brittany grins mischievously, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Santana kisses her one more time before answering.

‘Hi, honey – you’re not in trouble. But. You need to come home. I’m sorry, I know you’re out having fun, but I, I don’t know what to do-’

‘What’s happened? Is Luna okay?’

‘No. I mean, she’s not hurt, but she’s – Tana, please.’

‘Right. Okay. I’ll be as fast as I can. Hold on.’

‘Britt, I’m sorry.’

Brittany frowns, more upset than annoyed. It’s worse, somehow.

‘Don’t worry. Just go. Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No, I came with Blaine anyway. We- um. I don’t know. I just have to go.’

Brittany nods, squeezing her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you on Monday.’

Santana wants to smile, but the coldness in her chest won’t let her. She nods instead before running out. As she takes the stairs two at a time, she calls Blaine. Voicemail.

‘Where are you? Are you still here? We have to go, it’s an emergency. If I don’t find you in 5 minutes I’m leaving without you and you’ll just have to get over it.’

She rushes from room to room, and he’s not in the kitchen, the living room, the garden, the pool – although she does see some vomit in there, good luck to whoever lives here for tomorrow – and he’s nowhere to be found. Considering how hard he was pushing to go to this party, she doesn’t get why he’s hiding, but she just doesn’t have the capacity to worry about him. She calls him again and leaves another voicemail.

‘Sorry, B. Please let me know you get home safe. Or crash here and I can pick you up in the morning, I don’t know, I just need to get home. Talk tomorrow.’

She grabs her jacket and heads over to her car.

‘Dad?’ she calls out the second the door opens. Her mind has been racing the whole drive back, imagining every awful scenario she can think of. Hands shaking, she walks into the living room. Dad’s on the couch, staring blankly ahead, Luna asleep on his lap. Both of their faces are streaked with tears. The room looks the same as always, but everything feels wrong. ‘What is it? Where’s Mom? Is she hurt?’

He shakes his head silently, passing her a scrap of paper.

_‘I’m so sorry, honey. You deserve better than me. I love you all very much.’_

The only noise in the room is the clock ticking while she reads the note over and over. ‘What does this mean? Dad, where is she? When is she coming back?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think- I don’t think she’s ever coming back.’ His hand strokes Luna’s hair as he just keeps staring forward. ‘I got home from work and all her things were gone. Her half of the closet empty. Her perfume, her toothbrush. All gone. Like she was never even here.’

‘Why? Daddy, I don’t understand, what’s happening?’ Her voice is cracking, but she knows she needs to keep it down for Luna. God knows how long it’s already taken her to cry herself to sleep. ‘Why is she gone?’

Again, he shakes his head. The TV isn’t on, but his eyes are glued to the blank screen. ‘I’m sorry, Santana.’

She swallows past the lump in her throat. ‘So… what now? What do we do?’

He doesn’t move. ‘I don’t know. I guess we figure out how to keep going. Just us.’

She looks at the clock. It’s still early for a teenage party, but it’s past Luna’s bedtime. Looking at her father, she knows he won’t be moving for a while. She sniffs and wipes the tear from her cheek, then scoops Luna’s tiny body up off the couch to take her to bed. As she feels her sister’s arms wrap around her neck, she takes another look at her father – his empty expression, his eyes full of desperation, utterly lost.

‘Mommy?’ Luna whispers, still pretty much asleep.

‘No, baby. Let’s get you into bed.’

She doesn’t know it yet, but next week Brittany will try again and again to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, give her endless secret glances, but she won’t notice. She won’t notice much of anything.

There are about fifty different emotions she can’t even begin to process, but for some bizarre reason the one that stands out as she tucks Luna into bed is how this has ruined the party. She knows it’s irrational, but she’s furious with Blaine for disappearing, and probably having a fantastic time while she’s in this house, with this awful thing happening, with her whole family breaking, and he’s out there somewhere living his best life.

*

Blaine isn’t at the party long. That was never the plan.

He’s been thinking about boys more and more the last few months. He can’t possibly imagine coming out to anyone except Santana, and they’re pretty much in agreement that the rest of the population of McKinley is trash. But every day he sees boys and girls holding hands at school, in the street, sucking face in public like the world is about to end, and he can’t help being affected by it. It’s not exactly jealousy; lord knows if any of these guys touched him like that he would retch. He just feels like there’s this huge part of life, of adolescence, that he’s missing out on. Like he’s failing at being young. He’s almost fifteen; surely he should have at least held hands with someone or maybe even had his first kiss, but how can that ever happen? There’s only one other gay kid at school, and while there’s definitely something captivating about him, he’s very out-and-proud, outspoken, out there. There’s no way Blaine’s ready for that.

So he downloads a couple of those dating apps. At first he stays anonymous, no pictures, and within 24 hours he’s received dozens of messages – some innocuous, some downright filthy. It’s half-exciting, half uncomfortable. Everything he thinks about all the time, closeness, attention, just being around other gay guys, and it’s all right here at his fingertips. The first month, he doesn’t reply to any. Then he feels a little bolder and posts a picture – heavily filtered, carefully angled in a way he hopes makes him look older than he is. He’d give anything not to feel like a little kid anymore, getting left behind while everyone else does all the things that are a part of growing up.

He replies to a handful of messages, surprised by how quickly he gets used to that way of talking, so suggestive and explicit. No intention of anything going further than a couple of messages back and forth, relishing the attention, the validation that comes with being told over and over that he’s hot, that guys want to do so many things to him. Occasionally, he touches himself thinking about those saturated photos, those possibilities, those wild scenarios he can’t imagine ever really being in.

But then one message feels different.

‘I’d make you feel so good, baby.’

He’s been called so many things – dude, bro, filthy little slut – but this one… it does something to him.

‘Oh yeah? How?’

It sounds like just what he’s wanted for so long, what everyone else seems to have already felt. ‘I’d stroke your hair,’ ‘I’d hold you all night,’ ‘nobody else gets you like I do.’ His photos are nice – a little older than Blaine, but judging by how he texts, probably not by a lot, and using the same tricks as him to look older. This is just how it is for gay guys.

‘Babe, I wanna meet you so bad. Wanna know what your lips feel like. We can keep it a secret, don’t worry.’

Blaine’s skin burns as he sits up late at night in bed, addicted to feeling so wanted. He’s usually non-committal, just making the occasional suggestion, but he can’t hold back any more.

‘Want to meet you to. Want to feel your hands on me.’ He pauses before adding, ‘Where are you?’

A smirking emoji comes back. Blaine is not going to turn 15 having never been kissed.

*

_**After** _

‘So I told him there was a party that Saturday that I could crash and then sneak away from.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘Well, Claire, this conversation started with you asking me what my first sexual experience was like, and then I started telling you this story, so I feel like you can probably connect the dots.’

Blaine has never loved and hated anyone quite like he does his therapist.

‘Blaine.’

‘I know.’

‘We can stop if you want to.’

He sighs. ‘No. Sorry for being rude. I can keep going.’

‘Take your time.’

He takes a sip of water from the glass that’s always sitting ready for him. ‘I think deep down,’ his insides tighten with embarrassment, ‘I hoped we would be boyfriends or something.’ He looks at his hands. ‘He didn’t have the same idea. He wasn’t as nice in person.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

A pause. He feels an urge to backtrack that he doesn’t fully understand.

‘Well, he didn’t hurt me or anything.’ He swallows. ‘Not really.’

‘So it was a positive experience?’

He can still feel it sometimes. The stale breath. The hands grabbing his hips a little too roughly. His mouth being forced open and hair being pulled. The unmistakable sound of him spitting in his hand and- Blaine closes his eyes for a moment. He looks at Claire. He knows exactly what she’ll say if he tells her everything. Not saying everything won’t change it, though. Another sip of water.

‘He, uh. He didn’t smile the whole time. I thought I was going on a kind of date, and he didn’t even smile when he saw me. Although I guess my smile was pretty fake anyway. He looked much older in person.’

‘Do you think you consented to sex with him?’

Okay. That’s not what he thought she would say. He expected something like _‘What did you think would happen going to meet a strange guy from a hook-up app? A proposal?’_

‘I – I didn’t say no. And I’d said a lot of stuff in my messages.’

‘And is that consent?’

Blaine wraps his arms around himself, squeezing his lips together tightly. Kurt drifts into his thoughts, as he often does in here when things get too much, but he forces him out. He doesn’t want to taint him with this conversation.

‘It was just… bad communication. I got better at that. I don’t think he wanted to hurt me. I just should’ve said when it was – uncomfortable.’

She nods sagely. He hates when she does that. It means she’s about to absolutely nail something and he really doesn’t want her to do it now.

‘Remind me - how old were you when this happened, Blaine? Fourteen?’

‘Well, I turned fifteen the next day.’ It sounds so flimsy when he says it out loud.

‘Right. And how old do you think he was? Just roughly, if you’re not sure.’

His stomach churns.

‘Maybe twenty-five. Maybe older.’

‘And it was your responsibility to say when you were uncomfortable?’

Blaine rubs at his eyes. ‘Do we have to do it like this every time? Can you just this once tell me what you’re thinking and we can save like ten hours?’

She smiles, glancing at her notes. ‘Okay. Let me come at this from a different angle. You said you’re in your school’s PFLAG group. Are there freshmen in that club?’

That question throws him. ‘Sure, plenty.’

‘If one of them told you the story you just told me, how would it make you feel?’

What Blaine hates the most about therapy is that even when he learns things he knew deep down already, it can still knock him for six. Claire pours him some more water and pushes the box of tissues closer to him, and it makes it so much worse, and he makes a mental note of where the trash can is in case he throws up, but it doesn’t happen. His eyes are stinging, head spinning, and he’s vaguely aware of Claire moving her chair closer and touching his hand.

He remembers how he felt so distinctly, especially the walk home once he’d finally heard Santana’s frantic messages. As hard as he’s tried to forget, he’s never been able to shake that feeling: humiliated, isolated, so stupid and naïve for believing this was going to be anything else. He can remember wanting to brush his teeth and realising that even after all that, he still hadn’t been kissed, and finding that yes, it was his fifteenth birthday. Even the slight grazing on his chest from the brick wall he’d been pushed up against is vivid in his memory.

But one thought he’d forgotten until now: ‘I guess this is how it’s going to be now.’ Imagining any other fourteen-year-old thinking that makes his heart hurt.

‘Can you tell me what you’re thinking, Blaine?’

‘I was just a kid.’

‘Yes, you were.’

He takes a tissue and wipes tears from his eyes.

‘That guy took advantage of me.’

‘Yes. I think that man took advantage of a young boy.’

‘Jesus.’ He clears his throat and drinks more water. He’s already planning what he’s going to write in his therapy journal, try to make sense of other encounters he’s had over the last couple of years. ‘What else are you thinking?’ She raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Come on, I’ve put in a lot of work today, you can give me this.’

She rests her notebook and pen in her lap. ‘Okay, Blaine. Firstly, I think you might to try to blame yourself for what happened, even though you know it wasn’t your fault. Because saying “I was so stupid” is easier than admitting that somebody hurt you.’

He breathes slowly through his nose, trying to be aware of the feeling of his stomach expanding with each inhale, clinging to the real, the tangible.

‘Okay. Anything else?’

‘You won’t like it.’

‘I never like it. But it’s usually what I need to hear.’

After a pause, she says, ‘I think you probably weren’t the first boy he did this to. And I highly doubt you were the last.’

He thinks back to six months ago, before everything happened to him and Santana, to the cocky asshole he was. He always knew it was something of a front, but he hadn’t really put together why he was doing it. It was so much easier to say he loved it all than admit how much he was hurting, how excruciatingly lonely he was.

His stomach finally unclenches. He knows there are still tears on his cheeks, but he isn’t sobbing. He just feels suddenly exhausted.

‘So now what do I do?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, now that I’m a victim of… whatever it was. Now what?’

‘Whatever you want. You don’t have to call yourself a victim of anything. I can’t tell you what you’re going to feel about all of this. It’s probably going to be hard, but that’s okay. It’s okay to cry for a week, or to punch things, or go scream off a cliff somewhere. But more than those, you may find yourself grieving. Not because your life is over, but because you’re rethinking how you look at your younger self. I try to get a lot of people to treat their former self – or, please don’t roll your eyes at me, their inner child,’ he lets out a chuckle, ‘with more kindness and compassion, and that would certainly apply here, but you may also feel a sense of loss for that former self. That childhood. That boy had to grow up very quickly because of what someone else did.’ He breathes in and out, in and out. He gives her a small nod. ‘But you also get to comfort that boy. Reassure him.’

He can barely move. He can’t imagine having to comfort a real person right now, let alone his inner child.

‘How?’ It’s barely a whisper.

She smiles.

‘By telling him how much better things are going to get. That young Blaine won’t feel like that forever.’

This time he doesn’t push thoughts of Kurt out of his head when they fade into his mind. The way he feels with Kurt couldn’t be further from what he felt that night. He’s never desperate to leave or uncomfortable when Kurt tells him he’s beautiful or kisses him on the forehead just because.

Blaine had spent so long convincing himself that it was childish to want to be loved. Unrealistic. But now, rather than a painful twist in his stomach, a heavy throb in his chest, there’s warmth.

He doesn’t even think before he says, ‘But isn’t that too much to put on Kurt? Isn’t it still unhealthy to put all my happiness into my relationship?’

She doesn’t mean to, but she laughs. ‘Sorry. Blaine, it’s okay that your boyfriend makes you happy. That’s what he’s supposed to do. It makes me like him. But I actually didn’t even mention him. What else is different about your life now?’

‘Oh. Yeah.’ He feels his cheeks heating up, embarrassed that he jumped to the most obvious conclusion of what happiness meant. ‘Well, home is much better now my parents know everything. And I have more than one friend.’

‘Jeez, brag much?’

He snorts. ‘Fine. I… I don’t feel alone anymore.’

‘And is that just because of your relationship?’

He looks out of the window for a moment then shakes his head. ‘No. It’s everything. It’s me.’

‘If you and Kurt broke up, do you think everything else would fall apart?’

The very notion is horrible, but after some thought, he answers, ‘No.’ He’s sure he would have a complete breakdown and spend a few weeks crying on his parents and eating a thousand cookies, but he knows he wouldn’t go back to his old ways. Because the idea of lying alone with his thoughts at night isn’t so terrible now.

‘Okay. So maybe, if you start to feel sorry for the boy you used to be, maybe you could tell him all the things he has to look forward to. You can’t go back in time,’ he has to bite his lip. He knows he needs to be honest with Claire, but he also doesn’t want to get sectioned, so certain anecdotes are still kept between him and Santana. ‘And you can’t change what happened, but you can decide how you react to it. You can’t be the child anymore, but you get to be the parent. You can treat that boy with the love and gentleness he needed.’

He has to sit with that for a moment. He finishes his water. Claire doesn’t top it up this time, as their session or more or less over.

‘That was really nice. You should write poetry of something.’

‘How do you know I don’t already?’

‘Good point. Okay, next week, we talk about you.’ She laughs. He knows it probably isn’t healthy, but he does desperately want her to like him. ‘One to ten. How broken do you think I am?’

‘Do you really think I’m going to answer that?’

He sighs. ‘Fair enough. Thank you.’

His mother is waiting in the car with a book. He goes straight to her door, opens it and hugs her.

‘Oh! Okay, sweetie. Good session? Have a breakthrough?’

‘Breakthrough. Breakdown. Who knows.’ He takes a deep breath, soaking in the smell of her perfume, thinking how much fourteen-year-old Blaine needed to do this. He knows he’ll just have to give himself everything that kid needed now.

‘Obviously, we can do this for as long as you want, but it’s starting to rain. Could we maybe go home and hug there?’

‘Actually, would you mind dropping me at Kurt’s?’

‘Of course. If you’re sure it’s okay to deviate from the post-therapy routine?’

He nods into her shoulder. ‘Yeah. Special treat.’

‘No problem. Maybe tomorrow we can go to dinner or something? Special treat for all of us – Kurt included?’

He smiles. ‘That sounds great. Let’s go.’

*

Kurt isn’t entirely sure what to do with post-therapy Blaine at first. He pulls him into a long, warm hug the second he arrives – Blaine thinks he may have picked out this sweater especially because it’s extra soft and smells gorgeous – but when they go up to Kurt’s room things are a little stilted.

‘Do you want to talk about it? Do you want to be distracted? We can make out if you want – but maybe that’s not helpful, uh-’

Blaine kisses him.

‘All of the above, please.’

Kurt smiles and kisses him back. ‘Works for me.’

They put music on, something calm and quiet, and sit at the head of the bed and talk. They’ve been together long enough now that Mr Hummel doesn’t mind if they have the door closed – or maybe his wife has convinced him that it’s okay. Either way, both are grateful for the privacy.

‘So, I want to talk about my session.’ He doesn’t usually bring up therapy much. It’s not a secret, and Kurt has a rough idea of why he goes, but that’s as far as the conversation has gone. Blaine notices Kurt tense up a little, as if he’s scared he won’t do this right. ‘It’s okay. I’m okay.’

Kurt’s shoulders drop a little. He nods. ‘Good.’

‘I want you to know about before we got together. About, like, other guys.’

Kurt can’t hide his grimace. ‘Do I have to?’ he blurts out before realising it’s probably the worst thing to say. ‘Sorry-’

‘No, I don’t mean like that. I don’t really want to go into details about what happened. Maybe someday, but it’s not important now.’

‘Okay,’ he still seems uncertain.

‘I want you to know why I did all of that. Kurt, I know you get nervous about, like… sex stuff.’ Kurt wants to be indignant, but he knows Blaine’s right. He loves kissing Blaine, and feeling Blaine’s hands on his waist and on his cheek and in his hair, but if they ever come close to going any further than that, he freezes. Blaine is lovely about it every time, and once or twice he’s tried to push himself to initiate more than just making out, and Blaine’s stopped him, knowing he isn’t comfortable. ‘And I just want to tell you that it’s all okay. That everything we do is great. Kurt, if all we ever did was sit a metre apart and talk, I would still be happy.’

A small smile creeps onto Kurt’s face. ‘Really?’

Blaine nods, holding his hand. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, if we stopped doing this,’ he holds their joined hands up, ‘or this,’ he gives him a small kiss, ‘I would miss it. But I don’t miss the other stuff. It never made me feel good. I know you want to ask me about it, but you don’t want to intrude, which is very thoughtful. But I think it’ll really help if you understand it all better.’

Kurt nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I didn’t think I could ever be brave enough to be like you. The idea of my parents knowing I was gay, let alone the whole school, terrified me. I honestly thought hook-ups were the only way I could be honest about myself, but really I was just lying even more. Being a scared kid was horrible, so I thought I could just act like a grownup and it would be easier. But it never made me happy.’

‘That sounds lonely.’

Blaine swallows. ‘It was. But I didn’t know how to ask for what I actually wanted. I don’t think I even knew what I wanted.’

‘What did you want?’

‘This. Someone who would want me how I am. To feel like someone knew who I really was, and liked me anyway.’

‘I do like you. So much.’

He smiles. ‘I like you too. In therapy today we talked about the first time I hooked up with someone and it was really difficult, because I had always told myself it was something I wanted, but actually it was what someone else wanted. My feelings didn’t even matter then. And I remember thinking it had to be like that for people like us. There were so many guys just saying sleazy stuff and ready to meet up whenever, like it was nothing, I just figured it must’ve been normal. That’s why I spoke to you like that before.’

‘It’s okay, you’ve apologised enough for that.’

‘I know, but I’m still sorry. God, this is just turning into more therapy. Look, what I want to say is that while the apps and stuff are fun for some people, it was all wrong for me. And I don’t want you to feel nervous because of it. Because all of our firsts are still my firsts. The first time we kissed was the first time I ever kissed somebody I really liked. Our first date was my first date. I love that we’re taking everything slowly, because it means I’m not just trying to get it over with. Does that make sense?’

He knows that Santana could argue with what he’s saying. Not only has Blaine had moments like these before, he’s had them with the same boy. But he doesn’t feel like he’s lying. In the last six months, he’s learned so much about himself and about this Kurt, that it all just feels like an extension of what they had before. Everything that happened between them back there was so amazing, but there Blaine had a clean slate to start with. They were on an uneven playing field from the start – here it feels familiar but totally new at the same time. Blaine hadn’t realised how fraught and anxious it was before, like a nervous rehearsal, a frenzied trial run, until he had this: calm and safe and simple. He knew that before he only had Kurt for a little while. Now they have each other for the rest of their lives.

‘Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’

‘Of course.’

‘You said your first time – you didn’t really want to?’

A pause. ‘Not the way it happened, no.’

There’s something in Kurt’s face he’s never seen before. He can’t identify it until he asks, ‘Did he hurt you?’

It’s cold, hard rage. Blaine feels about an inch high when he nods and mumbles out, ‘Yeah. He did.’

Kurt’s breath is a little shaky, as if he’s trying desperately to keep it under control. ‘Do you know who he is? Can my dad and Finn go beat him up?’

‘No. I don’t even know if he told me his real name. Sorry.’

‘Don’t ever apologise.’

‘Okay. But I’d rather pretend that he just zapped out of existence somehow. Is that okay?’

He nods very quickly and pulls Blaine into a hug, tucking his head under his chin. ‘I just wish I could take care of you back then.’

Blaine sniffs, a tear rolling off his cheek and disappearing into the wool of Kurt’s sweater. ‘I know,’ he whispers, his voice breaking, ‘but you can take care of me now.’

Kurt puts a hand on his cheek, and kisses him slowly.

‘Forever and ever. Thank you, Blaine.’

‘For what?’

‘For talking to me about this. I know how hard you’re working on all this stuff and I really appreciate you letting me in.’

‘Thank you for showing me things can be better.’

Blaine kisses him back, his hand settling on his knee. He feels sparks low in his belly, his skin buzzing, and he pulls Kurt closer, knowing they can just stay like this, holding each other and smiling into each other’s mouths between kisses, for as long as they want. He pulls away to take Kurt in, the flush creeping up his neck, the hazy eyes and smile.

‘You’re my favourite.’

Kurt hums, resting his forehead against Blaine’s. ‘Mmm. You too.’

Blaine kisses him again quickly. ‘Now, can we watch something that is so mind-numbingly trashy that it takes zero brainpower and all I have to do is snuggle up right here?’ He presses into Kurt’s side, resting his head on his chest.

‘Oh, I’m gonna make you regret asking me that,’ he reaches for the remote, ‘Jersey Shore marathon, here we go.’

‘Sounds like perfect garbage.’

As he nuzzles into his boyfriend’s side under the blanket Kurt drapes over them both, he thinks about his therapy session again for a moment, and about his younger self, so desperate for affection, so quickly shut off. So cold and cynical to cover up so much worry and pain. Yes, when he first started seeing Claire, he would’ve cringed at the idea of talking to his inner child, his fourteen-year-old self, but he silently does it now.

He apologises for everything that happened to him. He tells him one day he won’t be pushing people away, but being pulled close instead. And he promises that one day he will be so loved that it won’t hurt any more.

*

‘I want some too, Tana!’ Luna tugs at her sleeve, desperate to look as pretty and sparkly as she and Brittany do right now. Brittany kneels next to her.

‘Sure thing. Come here, sugarplum. Hey, do you want me to do your hair, too?’

She nods eagerly. ‘Can I come with you? I love dancing, too!’

The girls smile at each other. ‘Sorry, baby. This is for special grown-up dancing.’ Their fake are IDs in their purses, not that they really need them. They don’t really care about drinking. The few times they’ve been drunk before was just to feel less nervous or be a little braver. They don’t need that now; they just want to get into the club and feel every second of the night. ‘But Britt will be here in the morning, too. How about we watch movies and have our own dance party tomorrow?’

She considers this option for a moment. ‘Okay. But only if I can have pink on my eyes.’

‘Well, that goes without saying,’ Brittany says as she gives Luna smooth curls and a purple smile. Santana takes them both in, her favourite girls, acting like sisters. It’s not her job to worry now, about homework or bedtime or giving her too much sugar. Santana loves being the cool big sister so much more than being the surrogate mom. Although, seeing Britt and Luna smiling at each other, pulling silly faces in the mirror until Lu is giggling helplessly makes her think that if this is what her future holds, maybe it won’t be a bad thing. But for now they blast some Carly Rae Jepsen and dance round the room like idiots until Luna is sleepy and Santana and Brittany are ready to go out.

By midnight, they’re with the other girls in the club, all singing along to Ariana, hair sweaty, toes screaming in agony, makeup smeared. Every now and then the two of them sneak off and make out in a dark corner with bass thrumming through their bodies, hands disappearing places they probably shouldn’t go in public. Santana can’t even bring herself to be remotely embarrassed. She feels sexy, she feels worshipped, and she finally feels like a teenager, every cell in her body electrified and alive. The others whoop and cheer when their friends kiss, but verbally assault any guy who does the same. She knows that Kurt and Blaine will be cuddling quietly somewhere, and she knows that’s what he wants, but now she gets to have the adolescence she’s wanted for so long without even realising.

*

In a different time, but a not so different place, the blossoms are out in the park again. They drift to the ground lazily, falling at the feet of five playing children while their parents watch from a distance. The kids gallop around in circles until they get dizzy, sometimes being wizards and witches, sometimes knights and unicorns, and occasionally pretending to be their own parents, making exaggerated kissy faces and loudly proclaiming ‘I love you soooo much!’

The parents are by the lake, sipping iced tea and lemonade. Santana twists her wife’s hair into ringlets, who in turn kisses her cheek and plays absent-mindedly with the vibrant embroidery on her skirt, laughing at the kids, on careful watch in case somebody trips and grazes a knee or somehow gets something jammed up their nose (she has no idea how her son manages it, but he does most weekends). Kurt holds his baby daughter close, while his husband holds her hand and coos over her.

The sky is blue, the grass is green, and the blossoms are beautiful. Nobody bats an eye at the sweet families, the best friends, the loving parents enjoying their Sunday together like they do every week.

The eldest girl, almost eight, yells, ‘Last one in the water’s a rotten egg!’ and the kids all run over to the adults, pulling at arms, dragging their moms and dads to jump in too. Kurt is happy to use the baby as an excuse, crying with laughter as the others dive in. Blaine has one of the twins in each arm, Santana has her youngest on her shoulders, the second in her arms, while Brittany has a splashing fight with their oldest. They race up and down the water, they see who can make the biggest splash, and they do clumsy, messy somersaults.

That evening, they walk home together in the evening sun, the kids still breathless and giggling, the two families going their separate ways to their houses, and a couple of hot baths and lots of fluffy towels later, all the kids are in bed, their parents smiling in at them from bedroom doors. When they were younger, they had no idea this life would even be possible for them. Now all they can think about is how lucky they are that it is.

*

Blaine and Santana don’t walk to school together anymore. Santana’s dad drops her and Luna off on his way to work now that he has a job to go to – it’s just a standard office job, nothing exciting, but it means she can work fewer shifts and keep all her wages for herself – and Blaine walks with Kurt, often with one earbud each so they can listen to music or a pop culture podcast together. They even start doing a few little dance moves on the way when they (incorrectly) think nobody else can see. Kurt’s much better at them than Blaine, who often stumbles just at the right point so that he falls into Kurt’s arms. It definitely beats cold walks home in the early hours of the morning, but he does miss putting the world to rights with Tana. They still see each other at PFLAG, but they’re usually busy mentoring new members or coming up with ideas for new projects – this month it’ll be a bake sale with all-rainbow cakes, and the younger students are all adorably excited. For them, being queer doesn’t mean anguish and anxiety, but community and celebration, and it feels good to be a part of that.

As busy as they are with college applications and relationships and happy home lives, it’s naturally much harder to see each other like they used to, so when Santana catches Blaine one Friday after school and offers to buy him a coffee, he says yes without hesitation. Kurt and Brittany smile at each other, suggesting they develop a secret friendship so they can have special meetings too. Blaine and Santana think that sounds insanely cute.

‘So, seems like you’re doing pretty well?’ she asks, sipping her mocha.

He smiles into his tea. ‘Yeah, I guess. I mean, therapy is hard work. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing so much better, but then one session some new sad thing comes and knocks me on my ass, and it’s like I’m back at square one again. Claire says that’s normal, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.’

‘Dad says it’s the same for him.’

‘But he’s getting better, too, right?’

She nods. ‘So much better. It almost makes me realise how bad things had gotten, you know? Like, I’m so happy when he’s showering and getting dressed every day, and I realise how pathetically low my standards are for a functioning home life. But, yeah, he’s doing really well, keeping the job going, doing more for Luna.’

‘So you have more time with Britt?’

She can barely make eye contact with him, and he could swear she’s blushing. ‘Maybe. God, B, I’m such an idiot for not trying to be with her sooner. It’s like all the rage has just… gone. Except the obligatory ‘aren’t straight people the worst’ rage. It’s her, and Dad, and Luna being so much happier, and just, I don’t know, being a normal teenager doing normal, dumb, teenager stuff. I didn’t realise it could actually be fun.’

Blaine smiles. Of course, it was always fun being friends with her; nobody could come up with a quip as fast or shut down a shit-talker in quite the same cutting fashion as Santana. He’s sure that spark is still there, but all the meanness is gone from her face. She’s not looking around her, ready to be on the defensive at a second’s notice. She just sips her drink and grins at him and goes all gooey whenever she talks about her girlfriend.

‘That’s really good, Tana.’

‘And how about you? Mom and Dad good?’

‘Great. They ask after you a lot, actually. It’s good, not hiding stuff from them anymore. I used to be so mad at myself for not being honest sooner, but I’m trying to be more forgiving towards past Blaine.’

‘Wow,’ she grins, ‘this woman must be good.’

‘She’s infuriating, but yeah, she’s really good.’

‘And Kurt? That’s still a fairytale?’

He shrugs. ‘I mean, I don’t remember Cinderella being in therapy, although she probably could’ve used it. It’s not very dramatic or intense or explosive like I thought it would be, like the movies. Like when we – you know. But it’s better. I’m just happy. He makes me so happy I don’t even know what to do with it.’

‘Just hold onto it, I guess.’

‘Yeah. Guess so.’

There’s a comfortable pause. The thing they used to have in common is gone, but it’s been replaced by something so much stronger.

‘One thing. Have you ever told him about… what happened to us?’

His eyes widen. ‘God, no! I mean, I don’t want to keep secrets from him, or my parents, obviously, but I don’t want them to think I’m insane. I don’t know how to explain what we went through without sounding like I need to be locked up. I wouldn’t want to date somebody who told me that happened to them.’

‘Even if it was Kurt?’

He thinks for a moment. ‘Okay. Maybe. But he’s already tolerating a lot of crazy from me as it is. How about you? Have you told your dad? Brittany?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. I’m, like, 100% certain that if I told Brittany, she would believe me without question and ask when we can go visit the other us, but I think I kind of like leaving that as it is. For whatever reason, it happened, and we know it happened, and for me, that’s enough.’

He sips his drink. ‘Do you know what’s weird?’

‘What?’

‘How it just… doesn’t feel weird?’

She sits up and leans forward in her chair. ‘Oh my god, right?!’

‘Like, I thought coming here and leaving that Kurt behind and getting closer to this one would feel wrong, but it doesn’t. It’s like this is just… the rest of that story.’

‘I like that. I think I know what you mean.’

‘The way I see it, I got to fall in love with Kurt Hummel twice. I think that makes me pretty lucky.’

Knowing exactly what he means, she takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. ‘Love, huh? Have you told him that part?’

‘Not yet. But it’s okay. We’ve got time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took me 7 months but it's finally finished! Thank you so much everyone who was brave enough to read a work in progress, and I really hope this is worth the wait. I hope you've all had a lovely Christmas and that 2021 treats you with kindness.  
> Also please listen to No Choir by Florence and the Machine because I think it evokes a lot of what I'm feeling about Kurt and Blaine by the end of this x


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